Let Me In
by pocketfulofmumbles
Summary: When Tino Väinämöinen's car crashes in the middle of nowhere on a stormy winter night, he thinks he's going to die frozen and alone. But he follows a light and discovers much more than he ever thought he would. AU. Rated T for swearing and blood.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is my Hetalia fic and also my first prose fic. How exciting! Updates should be fairly regular, as I am doing this as a challenge for NaNoWriMo. I'm planning on it being about 50, 000 words. though this seems a little ambitious to me. But now I'm just babbling. On to the story and thank you for reading! :)

Chapter 1

Tino swore loudly as he clutched his nose, attempting to stem the heavy flow of blood now gushing from it. The impact with the tree had luckily not been lethal, but it had been enough to propel his face into the steering wheel with painful force. He cautiously checked his throbbing nose with his hands. It didn't seem to be broken, but damn did it _hurt. _

Tino swore again, rummaging through the mess of his car. The boxes in the back had been jostled, and one had fallen over, dumping a load of light summer clothes over the back seat. With his bleeding nose and spinning head, this turned out to be quite an obstacle as he groped around for his winter coat and hat.

_Why do these things always happen to me? Of course my rental car has to crash! And _of course _it has to be in the middle of nowhere during a blizzard. Always! Why?_

Finally, after a significant effort and an even more significant amount of swearing, Tino's coat, hat, and phone were in his possession. The phone had no service in this abandoned wasteland (_of course!_), but Tino grimly supposed that in the more than likely event that he got lost and started to freeze to death, he could use it as an emergency beacon.

As soon as Tino stepped out of the car he was hit with an icy blast of wind cold enough to cut through the wool of his heavy winter jacket. _Perkele perkele perkele! What am I going to do? _Tino stared helplessly at the twisted wreck that had been his rental car. It would be impossible to stay in _that. _The windshield had been blown out in the impact, and snow was already beginning to shift over the dashboard and seats. If he hadn't been so worried about whether or not he would be alive in the morning, his head would have been full of the enormous fine he would have to pay to the rental company. But with the snow already accumulating on his shoulders in powdery heaps and the still-oozing blood from his nose freezing slowly on his upper lip, Tino had more important things to worry about. Like how to not die.

He squinted into the thick flurry of snowflakes around the crash site. Nothing. No lights, no houses, no other cars. He didn't even know were he was. When was the last time he had passed a gas station? A house? Another human being? He couldn't remember. What if he could find service for his phone? Who could he call? No one he knew would be able to reach him in this gale, and he doubted that even rescue workers would be able to find him until after the winds stopped, and before that would happen he would be...

Tino slowly sunk down into the fetal position, with his hands over his head, fighting back tears.

_Voi Luoja, what am I going to do? There's nothing out here, I can't do anything! I'm going to die, I'm going to die!_

He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, trying to see a way out of his desperate situation. He couldn't think of anything.

It was as the first real tears began to fall, mixing with the blood on the snowy ground, that he saw it. A flash of light. He immediately sat up, his crying stopping abruptly at the prospect of salvation. For a moment he thought the light had been a hallucination, a result of his panic and injuries from the crash. But... yes! There it was again! Flashing through the thrashing branches of a pine grove. And it was definitely a human light, shining strong and steady through the darkness and falling snow.

Tino staggered into a standing position with difficulty. He was frozen, injured, and dizzy from the blood-loss, but he didn't care. He didn't know how far it was to the light, his one beacon of hope, but he didn't care. All he thought of as he began to hike resolutely through the snow was a warm house, a phone with a connection, and something to stop the growing pain in his head.

It was a jarring sound. It echoed through the house, disrupting the usual reigning quiet. Some one was knocking on the door.

Though he'd never admit it, it startled Berwald so much that almost fell out of his chair. After years of living in isolation, the sounds of the nature outside had become a part of the quiet. The sighing of the pine needles, the whistling of the wind, the light scrape of branches against the tin roof of the shed, even the howling of a winter storm. These things had become common place sounds for Berwald, a part of the peaceful background noise that permeated his world. Nothing like the humming and honking of cars and the shouting of people on the street. No. His was a sacred silence.

But the soft knocking on the door violated this holy ground. He could tell it wasn't just the wind from the blizzard rattling the windows. There was just enough rhythm, just enough hesitancy, to make it human.

_Human. _He thought, as he collected himself from his initial fright. He stood and walked, not without trepidation, towards the front door of the cabin. He knew he would have to let whoever it was in. There was no way he couldn't in weather like this. But he'd be lying if he said he wanted to.

In fact, he really didn't want to. Save for the monthly hassle of restocking his fuel and food stores, Berwald had had no real contact with people for years. Deep down he feared the mysterious person on the other side of the door, the person whose knocks were getting progressively weaker as Berwald stood conflicted in the middle of his living room. He didn't want or need another voice, another presence, invading his sacred alienation. He didn't want to open the door.

But that wouldn't be right, he concluded. He had to face this mysterious person, he had to let them in. Steeling himself for whatever might face him, Berwald covered the final few steps with long strides, turned the handle, and wrenched the door, his last barrier against the rest of humanity, open.

Like it? Should I continue? Reviews would be appreciated, but I won't summon the devil if you don't. Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Aaaand dialogue happens! I tried my best at Berwald's speech. I didn't want to make it too unreadable (vowels are kinda essential, folks!), but I still wanted to have the shortening of words and so on. I hope it works alright.

**Also, Disclaimer!: **I don't own these characters, they belong to Hidekaz Himaruya! (forgot that in the first part)

oooooo

Chapter 2

When Berwald opened the door he thought he was prepared for anything fate had to dish out to him. Police, axe murderers, girls scouts, it didn't matter. He was ready to face them. What he wasn't ready for, however, was for a person- a very bloody and very cold person- to come tumbling through the open door and onto the mat in a dead faint.

For several seconds Berwald stood there stunned, staring down at the man who was now stretched unconscious across his doorstep. The man's lips were blue, as were his cheeks and the tips of his fingers. His hair was frozen into a spiky halo that had already begun to melt around his head, revealing pale blond strands almost the colour of the snow wafting into the still open door. The most striking feature of his face at that moment, though, was the swollen nose and the _astounding _amount of blood that caked the stranger's lower face and coat. It was obvious from the large red stains on the man's once white scarf, that he had unsuccessfully tried to use it to staunch the flow of blood that was still trickling from his bruised and battered nose.

Tearing his eyes away from the mysterious stranger's platinum blond hair, Berwald jumped into action. After checking if the man is was still breathing, which he confirmed with relief after listening to a shallow raspy breath escape the chapped and frostbitten lips, gently he lifted the man, who was still in a dead faint, from the front mat and carried him into the living room, where he set him down with equal gentleness on the couch. He then went to retrieve his medical kit and blankets, closing the front door on his way back through the hall.

Casting all nagging doubts about the politeness of his actions into the farthest reaches of his mind, Berwald began to peel the soaked and frozen clothing off of the other man's body. Underneath the light blue, blood-stained winter coat the man was wearing a sweater and a thin cotton t-shirt, both equally as soaked as the coat, though not stained with blood. Blushing slightly, Berwald removed the articles of clothing and quickly wrapped his surprise visitor in heating blankets. He then turned away to build up the fire place.

By the time Berwald had turned back from the now roaring fire, his patient had begun to stir, though he did not wake. Very carefully Berwald began to clean the caked blood from the man's face, starting at the chin. It was difficult and finicky work, the blood was very dry and in some places it had frozen, making it even more difficult to remove. Eventually through diligent scrubs Berwald had managed to uncover a sizable patch of pale skin, all without waking the stranger.

As soon as he began on the bruised nose, however, the man flinched in his sleep and let out a low groan of pain. Dazed eyes cracked open, dazzled by the sudden intrusion of light. Berwald's hand, which had previously been hovering over the nose, snapped back immediately.

"Wha? Where?..." The stranger mumbled, trying and failing to sit up.

Berwald grunted and gently shoved his mysterious stranger back onto the couch. "Y'shouldn' 'xert yer self. Yer 'n shock." His speech was gruff and garbled from lack of use.

"Huh?" The man on the couch looked at Berwald as though his presence didn't really register in his consciousness. Somewhere in the back of his mind Berwald noticed that the stranger's eyes were a dark shade of lavender.

"Sl'p." The stranger obeyed and lay back on the arm of the couch, his brief bout of awareness slipping away.

Berwald finished patching up the man's nose in silence.

oooooo

The first thing to register in Tino's awareness was the pain in his nose. Not dizzying pain like in the first moments after the crash, but a low dull ache. The second thing he noticed was a cozy, enveloping warmth. From these two pieces of evidence, Tino concluded that he wasn't dead. But if he wasn't dead, where was he? He could remember staggering up to the door of the cabin, but after that his memory was blank. If he strained his mind very hard he could recall a spark of fire and a flash of cerulean, but he had thought that was just a dream.

Groaning from the stiffness in his limbs, Tino sat up, the thick blanket sliding off onto the floor as he did. He was in a small, dark living room, sparsely furnished with a couch, a table, and what looked like a hand-built bookcase in the corner. In the grate there was a fire crackling merrily away, casting flickering shadows on the featureless walls. Outside the shaking windows the storm raged on, though a dim light was beginning to make the outline of trees more distinct. Tino guessed it was early morning, before sunrise.

Aside from the whistling of the wind and the crackling of the fire the house was dead quiet. Tino attempted to stand, but a sudden dizziness forced him back to sitting on the couch. It was only then that he realized he was shirtless and that his nose was expertly bandaged.

"Y' shouldn' try t'stand," A deep voice mumbled from the doorway behind him. "y'could hurt yerself."

Tino nearly jumped otu of his skin in fright and turned around much to quickly, earning himself another wave of overwhelming dizziness. Through his fuzzy senses, Tino could tell the man standing there was tall. _Very_ tall. Slowly he raised his eyes to meet cold blue-green ones and flinched. The man's face was terrifying, his gaze intense behind wire framed glasses.

"I... uh..." Tino stammered intelligently, unable to get over his fright.

"S'good y'woke, though." The man said, walking around the couch and setting a tray down on the table. "B'n out fer 'couple hours. W's gettin' worried."

The man had a telegraphic way of speaking, and this coupled with a thick accent that Tino couldn't quite identify made it almost impossible for his words to be understood. It took Tino several seconds to decipher what the man had said.

"Oh! I... I'm sorry! I didn't mean to..." He trailed off.

"S' n' problem."

Tino was bewildered. He felt like he had to say _something_, but the man's laconic, emotionless replies made it difficult for him to think of anything. As he scrambled for something, one of the questions that had been floating through his brain before he had woken suddenly occurred to him. He extended a hand.

"I'm Tino Väinämöinen, by the way. I.. I'm pretty sure you saved my life by bringing me in here so... thank you." He smiled, trying to encourage a response from his saviour.

The man took Tino's hand, practically engulfing it, and shook it without an change of his stoic expression. "Berw'ld 'xenst'rna."

Tino smiled nervously. "Berwald Oxenstierna" was a perfect name to go with those gigantic hands, he thought. The man looked like he could lift a house.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I really am sorry for intruding like this... I didn't mean to faint on you and... and is that food?" He peeked past a broad shoulder at the tray on the table. A mug sat there steaming and what ever was in the bowl smelled _delicious_.

"Mm."

"Uh... may I...?" Tino's stomach grumbled loudly as he said it, speaking volumes more than his timid question ever would.

" 'Course. Y'need t'eat after what y've b'n through." Berwald picked up the bowl and handed it to Tino, who grabbed it and began to shovel it's contents into his mouth.

Berwald looked away. At least now he had a name for his mysterious intruder. Tino Väinämöinen... it suited him, Berwald decided. Still he felt decidedly uncomfortable with the situation. He hadn't had a proper conversation in months, maybe years. He wasn't sure how well he could keep up at the pace he had been going. Even a few words were a struggle.

And Tino Väinämöinen's voice rang uncomfortably in his ears, harrassed his ear drums. It was not an unpleasant voice, in fact Berwald found in lilting foreign accent to be quite charming, but he was so unaccustomed to any voice besides his own... it was unsettling. He looked back at Tino, who had by then finished the soup and had started sipping at the warm cocoa.

"G'd?" He couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Very." Tino replied, sipping again at the cocoa and turning to meet Berwald's eyes. He flinched minutely as the cold stare again bored into him. Lowering the mug he spoke.

"I was wondering, Mr. Oxenstierna-"

"B'rwald s'fine." Berwald interrupted.

Oh, okay Berwald... do you have a phone I could use? I need to call a service as soon as possible to get my car towed. I really don't want to impose on you longer than I have to..."

"Yer car?"

"Yes.. it slid on the ice and I crashed into a tree. Right after a bridge, I think."

Berwald raised his eyebrows slightly in astonishment. The nearest bridge was six miles down the road. Walking all that way after a car wreck... it was no wonder Tino had fainted.

"M'phone's in t'kitch'n." Berwald said, standing. This earned a frightened gasp from his new acquaintance. Berwald had forgotten how imposing his height tended to be. He reached out a hand, which Tino looked at in confusion.

"Cord's not long 'nough. And y'shouldn' walk w'thout help." He offered as explanation.

"Oh! Okay." Tino said, Berwald's hand completely enveloping his as he took it yet again. He staggered as he tried to stand on his wobbly legs, but regained his balance with the help of Berwald's other arm, which had come to his aid as soon as he showed signs of falling. Gripping to the fabric of Berwald's shirtsleeve and blushing at the absence of his own shirt, Tino slowly began to make his way towards the door. It took a while for them to make it to the kitchen, Berwald awkwardly leading the shuffling Tino across the house. Eventually Tino was able to regain some of his strength, and he was able to make the last few steps into the kitchen by himself. Berwald handed him the phone and backed off. He didn't want to make his visitor feel more uncomfortable than he did already.

Tino took the phone. It was and old fashioned cord-phone, one with a spinning dial. It took him a second to remember how to use it. As he dialed the wondered about Berwald, why he lived in such a tiny place so far from everyone else. Why he seemed so willing to help Tino when he was obviously being incredibly rude by imposing upon him. Maybe he was a serial killer! Or a cannibal! Or both! He couldn't possibly know. A jolt of fear ran through him and he cautiously turned his head to look at the man behind him.

Berwald was hunched over the small kitchen table, staring resolutely at the refrigerator with his intense turquoise eyes. Yes, the man was terrifying, it was true. Though... he didn't seem like a crazed axe murderer. He _had_ taken Tino in out of the cold, after all, and bandaged his nose and given him food. Maybe Tino was fretting for nothing. Still, either way it would be best if Tino got out of the man's way as soon as possible. He turned his attention back to dialing the service number.

He was greeted by a harsh beeping. The line was down. _Damn._ He tried another number, and another. He called everyone he knew and whose number he could remember, even his hair dresser. Nothing. The helplessness of his situation suddenly hit Tino like a punch in the stomach.

_What am I going to do now?...My car is ruined, I don't know where I am, I am trapped in a tiny cabin with a scary recluse who very well could be a chainsaw wielding maniac, my nose hurts like hell... and on top of it all I can't reach anyone I know, not even the towing service. Perkele!_

Fighting back tears he hung up the phone and leaned his forehead against the wall. The dizziness was back again, making him feel even more confused and helpless, almost as much as he had after the crash.

Berwald had looked up at the sound of the receiver being put back. "G't 'nythin'?"

Tino turned around, apology and guilt contorting his features. "No... the..." He paused and took a deep, fortifying breath, willing his voice not to shake. "The lines are all down. I think the blizzard is hitting where I live as well..."

Berwald did not respond, but instead continued to stare at Tino with his concentrated glare. This did exactly nothing to help calm Tino down. Instead he felt even more trapped than before and began to babble.

"And my phone has service out here so I really have no one I can call and I have a client to see tomorrow and basically everything I own is in that car and the rental company is going to put the hit on me or something, because I can't possibly pay for it and... and... ooooh what am I going to do?" He said the last question in a high, panicky voice and clutched at his hair.

Berwald could see that his visitor's eyes were beginning to glaze over with desperate tears, and decided that speaking would probably be a good idea. "'ve got 'n 'xtra bedr'm."

"Wha?" Tino looked up.

"Y'can stay here."

Violet eyes widened, "I... I couldn't possibly impose on you like that..."

"Y'hafta. Th's storm s'goin' t'last a c'ple days."

"But..."

"Y've got n'where y'can stay but here. S'n'probl'm."

Tino could see that there was no way out of this proposal. He could stay and take advantage of Berwald's (terrifying) hospitality, or he could freeze to death in the middle of an abandoned wasteland. As much as he didn't want to intrude, Tino found that he was much in favour of the former.

"Alright... but... but I should do something to earn my keep if I'm going to be staying here... I can pay you rent..."

Berwald grunted. Tino took it as a no.

"Or I could cook... or_ something."_

"Y'don' hafta." Berwald stood as he spoke.

_But I want to..._

"Can y'walk?"

Tino took a few practice steps, and found his legs stable enough. "Yeah, I think I'm fine."

"'Kay. F'llow me."

Berwald ascended the stairs to the extra bedroom with Tino trailing cautiously behind.

ooooo

Phew! This chapter was a struggle. I'm not good at dialogue and I had to rewrite the ending. Anyvay. Thank you so much to those who have read, reviewed, and/or added this to alert lists and favourites! Your support and interest in my story encourage me very much!

I am working on chapter 3, though what with work and school and life insanity, it might take a bit longer than this one. Actual stuff will happen in the next couple of chapters, not just dialogue and minute descriptions of facial features, I promise.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Sorry this came so late. College and whatnot. Updates will probably be about a week apart in the coming months, but I won't let this story die! The response has been so encouraging and the plot bunny is as insistent as always. Thank you for reading and hope you enjoy this installment!

**Disclaimer**: Don't own these characters, etc, etc.

Chapter 3

Tino lay awake, watching the morning light grow in the cloudy sky. The wind still lashed against the side of the house and the snowflakes still swirled past the tiny window. Tino could no longer see the tops of the distant trees; the snow falling too thick and to fast to make anything out beyond about six feet. As much as he was nervous about his current situation, he was glad that at least he wasn't driving through _that_.

Tino sighed and rolled over, willing sleep to come and relieve him from his many anxieties. How was he going to pay for the car? How was he going to get home? What would happen at work when he got back? And most importantly, who was Berwald Oxenstierna? Was he a criminal? A recluse? A religious fanatic? Tino felt guilty for asking these questions about his mysterious host. Considering Berwald's hospitality, he had no reason to suspect Berwald of being a serial killer...

Tino's hand trailed along the overlong hem of the t-shirt Berwald had insisted on lending him for sleep. Yes... Berwald Oxenstierna was being remarkably kind to him, especially since Tino was intruding so blatantly. But he was so silent! Why didn't he talk more? And that glare... so sharp and cold. Was he actually angry at Tino and just waiting to strike at the opportune moment? And he was so tall! It was scary! Tino squeezed his eyes shut and curled up into a ball in the middle of the bed Berwald had made for him two hours earlier.

_I will think about this later! Right now I need to sleep._

His questions about Berwald still running through is mind in endless loops, Tino slowly drifted into a fitful sleep.

oooooo

As soon as Tino had been settled in the extra bedroom, Berwald had gotten to work. He had a mission. First, he started another batch of the soup he had served Tino the previous night. Then he went into the basement storage room and retrieved his winter survival kit. Having checked that everything was in order, making sure to include a thermos of the steaming vegetable stew, Berwald wrapped himself in his warmest winter clothes, picked up his rucksack, and stepped into the howling gale.

It took him a while to battle through the wind to the shed, and when he got there the doors were already blocked by a high drift of powdery snow. He dug out the shovel and uncovered the door, and quickly stepped inside. The warm, still air, smelling strongly of sawdust and furniture glue, was a relief after the biting wind and ice. But Berwald could not afford to waste time now; twelve miles was a difficult journey even in good weather. He quickly made his way across the shed and grabbed his skis, his sledge, a tool belt, and rope. Outside again, Berwald fashioned a rudimentary harness out of the rope and tool belt with ease, securing the belt around his middle and attaching the other end of the rope to the sledge. With slightly more difficulty, he put on the skis. He was ready.

Glancing back at the house only once, Berwald dug the ski poles into the ground and set off into the blizzard, sledge trailing erratically behind him in the deep snow.

ooooo

When Tino woke it was dark outside the solitary window. Bleary-eyed and disoriented by the strange bed, Tino looked at the glowing display of the alarm clock on the bedside table. It was six thirty in the evening. Groaning, he sat up.

Mourning the loss of heat, Tino cautiously lowered his feet to the cold hardwood floor and tested his footing before he stood. He didn't quite trust his legs yet. They felt fine enough, and he padded across the room towards the door. Halfway across, though, he tripped over something large and heavy in the center of the room. Clutching his throbbing toe and swearing, Tino looked down and found... his suitcase. He stared. How had that gotten there? Hadn't it been in his car?

_Did... did Berwald...? But how would he? And why?..._

Still confused, Tino set out down the dark hallway in search of his mysterious host. He opened several doors, his curiosity winning out over his politeness. The rooms they revealed were sparsely furnished, sometimes completely bare, and all were dark and cold. It was therefore a shock when Tino opened the final door expecting another nearly empty room and was instead greeted by a whirl of beeping sensors and blinking lights. At least seven computer monitors displayed complicated diagrams and maps, and a tangled mass of wires snaked around the floor and up the walls like ivy. Various complicated looking scientific instruments were stacked up on sturdy tables, beeping and whirring. In one corner was a large illuminated radar screen displaying a swirling purple mass that Tino assumed was the blizzard currently assaulting the cabin.

For a moment he stood in awe at his discovery, but sudden sound of clattering from downstairs broke Tino from his thoughts. Even more questions than before about Berwald buzzing around his brain, he headed downstairs, taking the steps two at a time.

It was obvious that the noises were coming from the kitchen, but a sudden apprehension took a hold of Tino, making him pause in the entry hall. Out of the corner of his eye Tino noticed a long blue winter jacket dripping onto the linoleum floor of the entryway. In the corner there leaned a pair of wooden skis, also wet. Next to the door were several boxes which Tino immediately recognized as the ones that had been in the back of his car when he had crashed. So Berwald _had_ gone out to his car and brought back his suitcase.

Instead of clearing away any of the mystery that seemed to shroud his intimidating host, this only confused Tino further. This man, who he barely knew and had never met before in his life, had gone out into the middle of a raging blizzard, battled through miles of wind and snow and cold, and had retrieved the possessions of a total stranger who he really had no reason to care about. On top of that he lived alone in an empty house in the middle of nowhere and had a secret scientific lair.

_Argh! Knowing people is supposed to be my job! But I don't get him at all!_

Tino almost stomped his foot in frustration, but didn't, berating himself for being so childish.

_There's no use getting so upset... I... I'll just be a polite and friendly guest and I won't get in his way too much. Yeah... that will work..._

Resolved but nervous, Tino made his way towards the kitchen door.

oooooo

Berwald turned around when he heard the kitchen door opened, fixing the timidly entering Tino yet again with that ominous stare. Tino repressed a twitch of fear.

"G-Good evening... er... "

"Nh. Feelin' bett'r?"

"Yeah, much better, thank you."

Berwald's gaze intensified. "Y'hungry?"

"Uh..." Tino said, looking at the steaming pot. "A little..."

Berwald gestured at the table. "S't."

"Okay... thanks." Tino sat at the small wooden table in the corner of the room. He glanced nervously at Berwald's broad back. There were so many questions he wanted to ask him, but how to do it? And where to begin? He made a small noise to draw Berwald's attention and those terrifying eyes turned on him once again.

Adrenaline rushing through his system, Tino stuttered out the first question that came to mind. "Uh.. I... I was wondering, Berwald..." The turquoise eyes narrowed ever so slightly when Tino used his name. "W-what do you do here? For... work, I mean..."

Berwald turned back to the soup and stirred it pensively, taking his time to answer. "M' a m'teor'log'st. This s' a res'rch station." He finally muttered.

"Oh!" Tino felt relieved. Several very pressing questions had been answered by this laconic reply. "I see! So that's what all those computers are for!" He realized only after he said it that he had indirectly admitted to snooping around Berwald's house, possibly disrupting delicate measurements and certainly violating his hosts privacy. He shrunk back in his chair in anticipation of an angry reproach.

None came. Berwald simply grunted an affirmative and poured out two bowls of the thick stew. He strode over to the table with his long legs and set one steaming bowl in front of Tino, taking his own to sit down across from his guest.

"Th't's m' sens'r lab."

"So... you must know all about this blizzard then!" Tino said before taking a sip of the broth and a bite of potato. The stew was just as delicious as it had been the previous night and it was only then that Tino realized he was ravenous. He was hastily lifting another spoonful to his mouth when Berwald spoke again.

"Mm. L'w front comin' down fr'm t'north. Creatin' heavy p'rcipitat'n n'high w'nds. S' a big one. Should last two t'three d'ys." Berwald surprised himself with his scientific outburst. He hadn't meant to say so much. Blushing slightly, he looked up from his food at Tino, who also looked mildly startled at the long sentence.

"Wow..." Tino looked deep in thought. Suddenly he smiled. Berwald stared. Even with the bandage and bruises, Tino's face was radiant when he smiled.

"So, I was wondering about some other things..."

oooooo

Berwald was not accustomed to being asked so many questions. Over the simple stew of potatoes, canned meat, and peas Tino asked countless questions about Berwald's work. Where had he gone to school? How much did all the scientific instruments cost? What did each of them do? Berwald tried to answer them the best he could, but in many cases satisfactory answers were either too long or too scientific for the poor, befuddled man to respond with adequately. The other man didn't seem to mind though, and chattered endlessly on.

From Tino's mile-a-minute conversation Berwald soon learned that his talkative guest was a therapist who worked in a small city some seventy miles to the south, that he was originally from Finland, and that he had always wanted a dog, but his landlord didn't allow it. Berwald wasn't sure how all of these things were connected, but as he listened on, he decided that didn't really matter. In spite of the extreme contrast between Tino's incessant babbling and the usual dead silence, he found he was actually enjoying listening to Tino talk. His voice was light and cheerful, but not annoyingly so, and the lilting Finnish accent lent his entire way of speaking a melodic quality which Berwald soon realized he was listening to more than the actual words.

And Berwald himself did an inordinate amount of talking that evening, more than he had in years. When Tino had said he was from Finland, Berwald felt obliged to reveal that he was Swedish. Tino seemed pleased at that, and commented on how they were neighbors. When Tino had said something about a dog, Berwald had asked what kind. "Oh, a small fluffy one! Cute enough to justify an absurdly adorable name, obviously!" was the answer he had gotten, and again Berwald had almost smiled.

Tino and Berwald sat at the tiny table in the cozy kitchen long after they had both finished third helpings of dinner, Tino talking ceaselessly and Berwald quietly listening, occasionally interrupting with a short question or curt observation. Before either of them had realized, it was two in the morning.

Despite his twelve-hour, midday sleep, Tino began to yawn, his words slowing and eventually stopping altogether. The silence that replaced the conversation was slightly awkward and Tino quickly got up from the table.

"I'm pretty tired... I should probably go up to sleep now. Sorry for talking your ear off! I don't realize how much I talk sometimes!" He laughed softly, nervously, stifling another yawn.

"S'fine. Didn' mind."

"Oh, good! Well... hyvää yötä, Berwald!"

"G'night."

Tino rushed off to bed, fleeing the uncomfortable silence.

Berwald sat quietly at the table for another hour, staring fixedly at the door Tino had exited.

oooooo

Oooookay. I'm sorry if this chapter isn't on par with the others. Work has been piling up and stuff has been happening, so I didn't have so much inspiration than I had with the first two chapters. I feel like this chapter is kinda boring with all the exposition, but at least it gets it out of the way for more plot and fluffiness later!

Also, "m'teor'log'st" has to be my favourite thing I've ever typed. Thank you, Berwald, for being so delightfully mumble-y! :D

I can't wait to write the next chapter. Much fluffiness ensues. MUHAHAHA


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Hooooly schnitzle bugs, this chapter is long. Twice as long as the other three! I hope it is to your liking! Also, unfortunately the next chapter will not come as quickly as this one. Real life calls. :( I will try to get it up within a week, but that may not happen, depending. It will probably not be as long as this one, but it is going to be exciting! Yay! :D

Additional: I would like to thank each and every one of you for reading this and appreciating it. It really is wonderful to see people taking the time to read my story. Also, I totally geek out whenever I look at the viewing stats and see that I have readers all over the world. The internet is so cool!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own these characters, blah blah blah.

Anyvay, onto the fluff!

oooooo

Even afterwards, Tino could never figure out how he made it through the first two days of his unplanned stay with Berwald Oxenstierna. After that first awkward dinner conversation, he felt that he had said to much and had annoyed his host. He decided on avoiding talking as much as possible. The next two dinners were conducted in complete silence. With dismay he realized that this did exactly nothing to lessen the awkwardness. In fact, with Berwald's cold blue-green eyes boring into him with every bite he took he felt even more ill at ease.

Tino saw very little of the intimidating Swede. Berwald kept mostly to his lab or his room, and only came out for meals. Tino spent his time either in his room fretting over his many problems or sitting in the living room in front of the fire, listening to the house shake in the powerful winds. After one particularly long and boring afternoon he had cracked and gone to ask Berwald for a book as a distraction. In a single short sentence he was granted free reign over every bookshelf in the house, and he soon discovered through further exploration of the barren rooms that there were a great deal of them, more than there were chairs. Tino had smiled a little at this. Somehow the fact that Berwald had Moomins comics in his collection made him a lot less intimidating. At least in theory: Tino still couldn't help but cringe every time Berwald looked at him.

He wasn't sure what frightened him so much about the man, he really wasn't. From what he had experienced so far from Berwald's hospitality, Tino knew he was a kind and generous person, but... his face was so... emotionless. Not once had he seen those frightening features deviate much from their normal stoic expression, let alone break out into smile or laugh. His face seemed to have two settings: scary and more scary, and Tino could handle neither with adequate poise. And there was the height difference too; Berwald was _massive_. Not fat, but muscular and broad, and at least six feet tall. And poor, diminutive Tino, with his thin limbs, narrow shoulders, and rounded face, felt vulnerable and womanly next to this rough-cut giant of a man.

But even with his huge, callused hands, Berwald was gentle. Tino had witnessed this when he interrupted him in his lab to ask for a book. Berwald had been hunched over a table in the corner, screwdriver tucked behind his ear and screws clamped firmly between his teeth, fixing the wiring in one of his sensors. Every minute movement of his hands was deft and calculated, and he eased the wires and computer chips into place with such delicacy and precision that Tino wondered if he was touching them at all. It was as if Berwald's fingers were caressing a lover, so gentle and reverent they were. Tino had reddened slightly at that thought and had asked for the book in many more words than were actually needed.

oooooo

Berwald was faring no better with the awkward predicament he found himself in. He could tell he was making his guest uncomfortable with his presence. He knew that he was taller than most and that his face was disconcerting, that people were afraid of him. It was one of the reasons he had accepted his research position in the first place, to get away from all that.

So he had tried to avoid Tino, in the hope that this would ease the man's mind a bit. He had enough to worry about without Berwald looming over him like some gigantic bird of prey. And being away from Tino and his voice would provide the silence and peace that Berwald so longed for.

Yes, even as he sat enthralled by the musical words of his guest, he still missed the silence that had been there before Tino's unexpected arrival. Before the only noises in the were the creakings and crackings of the cabin and the sounds the of nature that surrounded it. Now there were footsteps and sighs and murmurings in the night. Even if Berwald barely saw his guest, his presence was everywhere. An indent on the couch, a slightly open door, a book on the mantelpiece. In Berwald's thoughts as he cooked and cleaned, as he worked, as he fell asleep.

It bothered him. Before there had been scientific equilibrium in everything he had done. Every part of his world perfectly balanced on a scale. Tino was upsetting that balance, leaking slowly into every aspect of Berwald's lonely existence and tipping the scale. And as much as he wanted that balance, as much as Tino's presence distracted and annoyed him, made him feel like a prisoner in his own house, he couldn't help but smile inwardly every time he saw the man curled up on the couch in front of the fire, reading a comic book. It was just so... was "cute" the word he was looking for? _Cute_? Yes. He supposed Tino _was_ cute, in his small, pale, smiling way.

When Berwald had come to this conclusion, he was sitting in front of the radar screen in his lab, watching the weakening blizzard slowly dissipate. Tomorrow the skies would be clear, and for the first time in three days he would be able to go outside and observe the destruction the high winds and constant snow had wrought. But those thoughts were only trivial in comparison to his musings on Tino. Halfway through his thoughts on Tino's cuteness, Berwald realized exactly what he was thinking and blushed deeply. He shook himself, making the chair underneath him release a protesting crack at the force. Unbidden, the words "Stockholm Syndrome" drifted through his brain, but he chose to ignore them.

Running a large hand over his still slightly rosy face, Berwald glanced at the small clock on the wall. It was eleven at night. Late. It would be good to go to sleep soon, but first he thought he'd get a glass of milk. He was thirsty. He got up and headed downstairs, pausing to turn off some of the computers on his way out.

The stairs creaked a bit as he descended them, but other than that Berwald's steps were as silent as he was. When he reached the foot of the stairs he noticed silvery moonlight streaming through the windows in the front door. He peered through the distorted glass and into the sky. The moon was almost full, and so bright that no stars were visible. Dark, ragged clouds, rimmed with moonlight, raced across the sky, occasionally blotting out the moon, though its light still lent the whole snow-covered landscape an ethereal glow. Berwald stood there for some time, admiring the view, until a small noise from the living room caught his attention. Forgetting completely about his milk, Berwald eased open the living room door.

Tino was standing at the window, also marveling at the wintry, dream-like scene. The only light was provided by the moon, the fire having long since burned down to glowing coals. But Berwald didn't notice the chill in the room. He didn't even notice the magnificent landscape he had been admiring only seconds earlier.

Tino's pale hair was transformed into a blinding platinum by the moonlight, and the way it fell across his eyes cast dark, contrasting shadows on his milky skin. His eyes, bright, clear, and wondering, sparkled from the depths of the shadowed sockets. He was smiling slightly as he gazed out into the night. Berwald stood transfixed in the doorway.

He was going to have to revise his earlier decision. Tino wasn't cute, he was _beautiful. _And though his hair, his skin, his eyes, were shining in the silvery illumination, it was his smile that Berwald couldn't stop looking at. Those boyish lips, curled into a smile uninhibited by fear or nervousness. A true smile, one he had not yet seen on the face of his guest. Berwald realized that he wished he could make Tino smile like that, but he knew the man was terrified of him. Even if Tino was getting used to his presence, Berwald could still sense the fear, see the nervous twitch, whenever he looked at him. And for a moment he regretted being born with such a face, with such eyes. Eyes that never smiled, a face that never changed. He wanted to smile at Tino, and earn a smile back.

Berwald must have made some sort of noise, or perhaps his thoughts, so tumultuous and confused, had betrayed him, because Tino suddenly gasped and spun around. When he turned away from the window the shadows leapt onto his face, almost at the same time as the mask of fear that replaced his reverent smile, and the enchantment was broken. Instead of an unearthly, angelic creature of the moonlight, Tino with his frightened face and bruised nose stood before there, slack-jawed and stuttering. Only in his wide, violet eyes was there any lingering trace of his wonder at the moon-lit snow.

"B-Berwald!" Tino gasped after a moment. "I didn't see you there..."

_How long was he standing there?_

Berwald didn't reply, and instead walked over to the window to stand beside the other.

Tino stepped back a step, still not quite used to the Swede's alarming height.

"I'm sorry if I disturbed you. It's just, the clouds started clearing, and..."

"Didn' d'sturb m'."

"Oh... okay." Tino looked at Berwald's face. Somehow he'd expected the moonlight to make the man's face even sharper, more scary, but this was not the case. In fact, his features were greatly softened by the light pouring in the window. Or perhaps it was the scene outside that was making him look so pensive, so wistful? He couldn't tell. But when Berwald finally turned to look at him, Tino didn't feel the need to flinch. Those eyes, which in normal light were so hard and penetrating, were almost peaceful behind the simple glasses, almost warm, almost smiling.

"S'pretty."

Tino almost laughed out loud. Berwald using the word "pretty" was too hilarious. He smiled widely instead, missing the look of surprise on the other man's face as he did. "Yeah. It really is." He turned back to look out of the window again, and Berwald did the same. Neither of them said anything for a full ten minutes, but this was a comfortable silence, a contemplative silence. Nothing like the long, drawn-out awkwardness of their meals together. Eventually, though, Tino sighed and stretched his arms.

"Well, I should get off to bed. It's really late."

Berwald nodded, still staring at the clouds shunting across the sky.

"Good night, Berwald." Tino smiled up at his host. Berwald tore his attention away from the distant tree tops, fixing Tino with a look which was not quite a smile, but was as close to one as Tino had ever seen on the face of his host.

"G'night. Sl'p well."

Tino said nothing else, but smiled and turned, walking out of the room with a new spring in his step, despite his fatigue.

oooooo

The next day dawned bright, clear, and cold. Berwald sat in the kitchen sipping a strong cup of coffee as the sun slowly rose, red and weak, over the distant pine trees. Sleep had eluded him since his conversation with Tino during the night, and as a result he was feeling very groggy and slow.

From the single window, he observed the effects of the blizzard. The snow was very deep, and the drifts against the side of the house and shed were well over ten feet tall. It would be a struggle to even get out of the house, and Berwald could waste no time. If his preliminary predictions were correct, another storm, weaker, but still significant, would be arriving within the week, and he really didn't feel like shoveling eight feet of snow from his front step. In addition, he was running dangerously low on several essential supplies and Tino would probably be wanting to get back to civilization again soon, too.

Draining the dregs of his fifth coffee of the morning, Berwald stood and headed towards the door. He had a long day of shoveling ahead of him. If he started soon might even finish before midnight.

oooooo

Bright mid-morning light was streaming through the solitary window. Drifting between dreams and reality, Tino rolled over in bed and opened is eyes, squinting at the dazzling glare. It took his sleepy brain a second to process what he was seeing. Bright. If it's bright there's sun. Sun! Tino jumped out of bed, suddenly wide awake, and ran to the window, grinning from ear to ear. It had been almost a full week since he had seen the sun. He leaned into the forgiving warmth, letting it wash over him.

As he stood there, he realized for the first time that he was actually able to see the place the cabin was situated. Before it was either too dark or too blocked by flurries of snow to make out anything farther than the tops of the pine trees in front of the house. Now he could see that the cabin was actually in the middle of a large, flat field, bordered with wild evergreen forest. In the distance was a mountain range. If he strained his eyes against the sparkling glare of the snow, he could barely make out where the road he had been driving on wound through the trees and up the mountains. It wasn't plowed.

Tino sighed and wondered how long it would take the crews to reach this remote location, how he was going to get home. Berwald didn't seem to have a car. How did he get into town for supplies? Maybe he skied the entire way. Tino laughed at this thought, but even so he couldn't rule it out entirely.

Tino was distracted from his thoughts by a loud scraping noise from outside. Down below his window, Berwald was shoveling a narrow path out to a long, low building which was so covered with drifts that only the curving roof peaked out from the mound of white. Berwald's dark coat and hat stood out in stark contrast against the blinding snow as he shoveled, never breaking his steady rhythm. A sudden thought struck Tino, and he moved away from the window, pulling on his warmest clothes and boots from his suitcase before heading downstairs and outside.

The area in front of the door was already cleared when Tino stepped out onto the stoop. He shivered and pulled his sweater closer around his shoulders. It was sunny, but it was bitingly cold and dry. His breath came out in clouds and he could feel the prickling in his nose as the moisture there dried and froze. He looked around at the neat pathways that snaked through the deep snow. It was only nine thirty... Berwald must have been working since before sunrise to get so much work done. Tino slowly made his way around to the back of the house, his boots partly obliterating the much larger tracks Berwald had left behind.

By the time Tino rounded the corner of the house, Berwald had reached the shed and was resolutely chipping away at the enormous drift of snow blocking the door. Tino gripped his elbows in the cold. He was regretting not grabbing his heavier winter gear.

"Good morning!" He called cheerfully to the towering Swede.

Berwald turned around quickly, obviously startled. It took a second for him to recover before mumbling a curt "mornin'" and turning back to shovelling.

Tino came closer, stopping just out of range of the swinging shovel. "Would you like some help?"

"M'fine."

"No, really, I can help..." Tino craned his neck to pear up into Berwald's face. There were heavy bags under his eyes and his cheeks were pale. He looked exhausted. Had he even slept?

Berwald turned and looked down at Tino. He had to tilt his head down quite a bit to meet the other man's eyes. "Y'shouldn' 'xert yerself. Still r'coverin'."

Tino waved this objection aside. "I'm fine. Seriously, Berwald, you shouldn't be doing this job all by yourself. I can help! It's the least I can do to repay you for your hospitality."

Berwald still looked doubtful. "Y'sure?"

Tino nodded energetically. "Of course! Anyway, I'm Finnish! Shoveling snow is like breathing for me!"

There was a pause as Berwald considered. Tino could tell that he still wasn't completely sound with the idea, but eventually he acquiesced. "'Kay... y'need a coat though. Yer shiverin'."

"Oh..." Tino realized that his teeth were chattering and that his fingers were numb. "Mine is covered in blood..."

It was true. Somehow in the three days he had been in Berwald's house, he had not yet gotten a chance to clean the dried blood from his coat or scarf. The stains would probably never come out now...

"Y'can borrow one a'mine."

"Huh? Oh... I think it would be a bit big..."

"Can't let ya freeze." Berwald set down the shovel and headed into the house. Tino followed behind. When he reached the welcome warmth of the entry room, Berwald was already rummaging through a box on the floor of the closet. After a minute he pulled out a short wool peacoat.

"S'short 'nough for ya." He said, handing it to Tino.

Tino pulled it on over his sweater. It was loose on his shoulders, the sleeves were much too long, and it hung down to almost his knees.

Tino chuckled at the awkward fit of the coat. "At least it's warm..."

"Nh." Berwald was trying not to think about how cute Tino looked in the oversized garment, or how charming his laugh was.

They headed back outside, Berwald digging another shovel out from somewhere and handing it to Tino. When they reached the other side of the house, Berwald began to scoop out large chunks of snow in a seemingly random place. Tino was perplexed.

"Uh... where should I start?"

"H're" Berwald said, nodding to the area he had been working on.

"But... there's nothing there... I thought we were going to finish digging out the shed... thing..." Could it really be called a shed? It was much to big...

"N'need. R'nway's more 'mportant 'nyway."

Tino's eyes widened and his eyebrows disappeared underneath his bangs. "Runway? You... you have a _plane_?"

Berwald nodded again. "Mm. How'd ya think I g't 'nta town fer s'pplies?"

"Uhm... skis?"

Berwald stared at him for a moment in silence. Then the corners of his lips quirked upwards ever so slightly and his eyes softened the barest degree. Berwald was _smiling_. Tino blushed and stuttered, averting his eyes. Why was he so flustered all of a sudden?

"S-so we have to clear the runway?"

Berwald grunted and got back to work and Tino followed suit. For a few moments they worked in silence, but eventually Tino spoke.

"So... will we be able to fly into town sometime this week? I... I don't mean to be a bother, but I do need to get back..."

"D'pends on t'weather. 'Nother storms comin' through soon. Gotta wait fer t'phones and 'nternet t'get back 'nline too."

"Oh... that's right. I forgot about that."

"Nh." He'd hate to admit it, but Berwald was beginning to dread Tino's departure. Though he would never stall intentionally, secretly he was glad that it might take another couple of days before they were able to leave. He knew it was selfish of him to want Tino to stay- he had a life he had to get back to after all- but he was beginning to truly enjoy the small man's presence in his life. He knew that when Tino left they'd probably never see each other again, and this caused Berwald a pain that surprised him with its existence. He wasn't used to caring about anyone aside from himself.

He paused his shoveling and glanced at Tino out of the corner of his eye. The shorter man was going at it like he was being paid, heaving huge chunks of snow over his head at lightning speed, in some cases almost losing his balance from the weight and force of the shovel. Berwald predicted the fall before it happened. Tino scooped up a particularly massive mound of snow and attempted to fling it over his head, but his swing was too forceful, and with a muffled cry of surprise he fell over backwards into a deep drift of snow, disappearing completely into the powdery whiteness. Half amused and half concerned, Berwald strode over to the place where Tino had fallen and grabbed an exposed hand, the only part still showing, and heaved the spluttering man out of the pile of snow.

Berwald almost smiled again. Tino was covered from head to toe in snow, large clumps of it sticking to the wool fiber of the coat or melting in his hair. He looked dazed. Berwald steadied him with gentle hands and brushed some of the snow off.

"Jus' like breathin', huh?" He asked in a mildly amused voice.

For a second Tino didn't seem to understand, but when comprehension dawned he scowled up at Berwald and mumbled some sort of half-hearted retort, though there was laughter in his eyes.

_Cute_... Berwald blushed slightly and quickly removed his hands from Tino's shoulders. He picked up the shovel and began chopping away at another block of snow.

"Y'okay?" he asked, avoiding looking at Tino's face.

"Yeah, I think I'm fine. Thanks for helping me up." Tino laughed nervously, also blushing from the physical contact, and finished brushing the snow of of his hair and clothes.

"Hn." Was the only response he got.

And Tino couldn't help but smile.

oooooo

It took them almost the entire day to finish shoveling the runway, and even then there was still a stretch of about thirty feet that needed to be cleared. But the sun had set long ago and both Berwald and Tino were starving and completely exhausted. Berwald decided it would be best to finish the job another day when he'd had more rest, so they headed inside.

Tino was aching from the exercise and frozen despite the coat, so he headed up to his room to take a shower and change into some drier clothes, leaving Berwald downstairs. After brushing off his coat and removing his boots, Berwald stood contemplating in the center of his entrance hall. After careful consideration he decided to take a shower also. It would certainly soothe his spasming muscles, and perhaps it would calm the turmoil of his thoughts. He trudged off towards the downstairs bathroom.

The water was blessedly warm and did much to relieve the ache caused by lack of sleep and overexertion, but it unfortunately did nothing to get rid of the images of Tino laughing, pouting, bathed in moonlight. Berwald shook his head sharply and ran a hand through his soapy hair. Why couldn't he get Tino off his mind?

He didn't take long in the shower, stepping out of the warm stream of water and wrapping a towel around his midsection less than ten minutes after he had entered the bathroom. He dried his hair absentmindedly, put on his foggy glasses, and headed out into the hall. He started to head for his room and his clothes, but when he passed by the kitchen he stopped and backtracked, looking through the doorway. Tino was standing on tiptoes, trying to open a cupboard door. The tips of his fingers brushed against the handle, and he let out a noise of frustration. He wasn't quite tall enough.

Berwald stepped across the kitchen floor to Tino, leaning over him to open the cabinet. Tino squeaked in surprise and cowered away from Berwald's towering figure.

"S'rry t'startle ya." Berwald said, backing away.

Tino was still gasping for air. Berwald's shirtless-ness was not helping. "Th-that's okay! N-nothing to worry about."

"Were ya lookin' for somethin'?"

"I... I thought I could make dinner. Um..." Tino stammered on. "You seem really tired and I want to repay you for all the help you've given me the last couple of days."

"Told ya y'don't hafta r'pay me fer anythin'..." Berwald didn't seem angry, but there was a firm look on his face none the less.

"I know. But I like to cook. May I? Please?"

Berwald tried to resist, but found very quickly that it was impossible for him to say no in the face of Tino's eagerness. "'Kay. Y'need stuff?"

Tino practically beamed. "Yeah. Do you have peas? It's Thursday, I thought I could make hernekietto."

Berwald nodded and showed him where all the ingredients were, taking them off the shelves when they were too high for Tino to reach. He then excused himself, embarrassed by his state of undress, and headed towards his room.

By the time Berwald returned dressed in his usual dark blue sweater and slacks, Tino had made quite a bit of progress with the soup, and a wonderful smell wafted through the air. Berwald hadn't eaten pea soup since he was a kid, when his mother would prepare steaming bowls of ärtsoppa and pannkakor for dinner every Thursday. He inhaled the smell deeply, enjoying the nostalgia it brought with it. He sat down at the table and quietly watched Tino bustling about the kitchen, collecting ingredients and stirring the pot intermittently. It even looked as if he was going to make the pancakes, if the large bowl of batter was anything to go by.

It took a while, but eventually there was a bubbling pot of thick pea stew on the stove and a small pile of little pancakes heating in the oven. Tino took his time serving up the soup, making sure that everything was nicely presented before placing it in front of Berwald.

"I hope it turned out okay. It's been a long time since I made it, and I didn't have all the ingredients I usually use. There's no meat in it, unfortunately..." Tino hovered at the table, fidgeting with the serving spoon and nervously awaiting the verdict. Berwald took a bite. It was delicious.

"Well?"

"S'good. Th'nk ya, T'no."

Tino's eyes widened for a moment in shock. Berwald had never used his name before, and though it was just as jumbled and accented as the rest of his words, somehow he felt that it carried extra significance.

"You'r welcome! I'm glad you like it." Tino said, before heading back to the stove to serve a bowl for himself.

Neither of them talked much during dinner, too worn out from their long day in the sun and snow, but their silence was a comfortable one, much like it had been the night before in the moonlit living room.

After finishing several servings of the soup and pancakes, Berwald stood and began to move around the kitchen, putting dishes away and scrubbing the counters. Tino jumped up in protest.

"Oh, you don't need to clean up after me, Berwald, I can do it! It's my mess, after all."

Berwald shook his head, not looking up from scrubbing out the skillet used for the pancakes.

"Y'made d'nner. Y'should rest. I'll f'nish up."

"But... I want to be helpful..." Tino tried to argue, but he really was very tired.

"Y'have been. Y've done 'nough fer t'day. An' I don't m'nd cleanin'."

Tino gave up without a fight. "Okay. I'll go build up the fire then."

oooooo

About half an hour later, Berwald walked into the living room carrying two mugs of hot cocoa. Tino was sitting on the couch, his face cupped in his hands. The same contented smile that had so attracted Berwald the night before graced his features. He sat down on the opposite side of the couch and nudged Tino's shoulder with the warm cup.

"What? Oh! Thank you!" Tino's face lit up, small, graceful fingers just barely brushing Berwald's larger ones as he took the mug from his hands. Berwald inhaled slightly at the contact, but said nothing, instead opting to stare intently at the side of Tino's face.

The smaller man sipped contentedly at his drink for a moment before lowering it and turning to meet the eyes of the hulking Swede on the other side of the couch.

"Hey Berwald?"

"Nh."

"Can I ask you something?"

"S're."

Tino looked to the side. He was starting to get used to Berwald's intimidating aura, but those eyes were still too bright, too intense. "Why do you live out here?"

"M'job."

"But... why so far away from everyone?"

It took Berwald a moment to reply. "Jus' like t'quiet, I guess."

Tino laughed softly, though he wished he'd had a slightly more illuminating answer. "I can tell."

Berwald said nothing, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward for the second time that day. He turned his attention to the fire crackling away in the grate and sat for some time in silence. When he looked up again, Tino was dozing on the corner of the couch. He looked so peaceful in sleep, with his soft features relaxed and his lips slightly parted. But he couldn't stay where he was. After the fire died down it would become bitterly cold, as the room had no artificial heat.

It would be best to get Tino up to his room to sleep, Berwalf thought, but he didn't have the heart to wake him. So instead he knelt and very carefully lifted the sleeping form from the couch. Tino was very light, almost like a child, and Berwald had no trouble carrying him up the stairs and into the extra bedroom, where he lay him down on the bed and pulled up the covers. Tino didn't wake or stir, the fatigue from the long day overtaking his body and dragging him into a deep, dreamless sleep. For a moment Berwald stood over the bed, staring at the sleeping face. He really was beautiful. Very gently, Berwald reached down and with one giant hand brushed the pale blond strands from the sleeping man's brow. His eyes narrowed, and for one second the cold, turquoise gaze wavered and was replaced with a look of more tenderness and warmth than had ever transformed his features.

But a second later the eyes had returned to their previous expression, though the usual scowl was absent. Abruptly he removed his hand and wrenched his gaze from Tino's face. He was tired and his brain was a jumbled, confused mess. He needed to sleep. Berwald made his way out of the room and quietly shut the door behind him.

oooooo

Gaaaaaw! Berwald, you're so fun to write. Anyway. I hope you liked it and thanks for reading! Reviews are greatly appreciated and internet hugs will be forthcoming, but if you don't, I won't stalk you or anything.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Remember when I said this chapter was going to be short? Yeeeaaah, that didn't really happen. This chapter is much less fluffy than the last one, but stuff actually happens! GASP! Don't worry though, much more fluff is in store for you. :)

And thank you so much, all of you, for reading and reviewing. I am having so much fun writing this, and it makes me happy that you enjoy reading it!

P.S. Happy Thanksgiving to my American readers! Have fun eating lots of delicious food! :)

**Disclaimer: **I own noooothing...

oooooo

On Saturday morning Tino woke up very early, so early that it was still dark out. Finding it impossible to fall back asleep, he instead lay in bed for a while, relishing the warmth underneath the thick winter blankets and studying the shadows cast on the white plaster ceiling by the glowing alarm clock. He sighed. Tomorrow would complete his week at Berwald's house, and he was starting to worry that he would never get home. The phone and internet were still out, and Berwald had not yet been able to get his small plane ready for flight. It would take at least two more days for it to be safe to leave, and by that time Berwald's prediction would be fulfilled, and the second blizzard would make it impossible to get into the air without a serious risk.

Finally giving up on getting anymore sleep,Tino sighed again and threw the covers back, shivering in the intruding chill. He groggily put on his clothes and and made his way downstairs, pausing on the stairs to yawn and rub his eyes. The light was on in the kitchen, and he could hear Berwald moving around, probably preparing his morning pot of coffee. Did the guy ever sleep? Cautiously, Tino made his way into the kitchen.

Berwald was sitting at the table, sipping from a mug. He looked up as Tino came in, slightly surprised that he was up so early. He glanced at the oven clock. It was five thirty.

"M-morning!" Said Tino, trying to sound cheerful and awake, even as he barely stifled another huge yawn.

"Mornin'." Berwald paused. Tino's hair was still ruffled from sleep, and several strands of it were standing straight up from his head. It was a charming and amusing sight, and the yawning and sleepiness of his guest's eyes made it even more so. Berwald coughed and scolded himself for thinking so much about his guest.

"Y'want some c'ffee?"

"That would be great! Do you have cream and sugar?"

"Mm. 'S 'n t'fridge."

"Thanks!" Tino got to work, filling the mug more than halfway with milk before pouring in the coffee and putting in at least five cubes of sugar. Berwald winced. He much preferred his coffee black and bitter. As he took another sip, Tino came over to join him, holding the large mug in both hands.

"It's been a while since I've had coffee... I always get up so late!" He took a gulp of the milky liquid and perked up almost immediately, licking his lips.

Berwald studied Tino's pale, tired face. He looked sick. "Y'okay?"

"Huh? Yeah, just fine. Why do you ask?" Tino looked confused, tilting his head to one side and scrunching his eyebrows together. Berwald stared at the wall behind Tino's head, desperately trying (and failing) to block the word "adorable" from every corner of his mind.

"Yer up early. Thought y'might b'feelin' unwell."

Tino was touched. Berwald was worried about his health? That was just so... cute? He blushed and inhaled sharply. Nice! He meant nice! Anyway, "cute" was never a word he would think to apply to such a huge, intimidating man. And yet...

"N-no! I'm just... I was just having trouble sleeping! Nothing to worry abo-" Tino's jumbled, embarrassed reply was suddenly cut off by a loud, unnatural jangling sound that cut through the early morning quiet. The phone was ringing.

Tino yelped and barely prevented himself from falling out of his chair. A small amount of his coffee sloshed out onto the table and he hissed as the scalding liquid ran over his hands. Berwald was just as startled, but only jumped slightly, quickly recovering as he stood and walked over to pick up the phone.

"H'lo?"

"Yo! Oxenstierna! How's it hangin' out there?" His boss's voice was as loud and annoying as ever.

Berwald replied with an irritated, monosyllabic answer, and on the opposite end of the line the other man jabbered on, his tone much too cheerful for the news he was giving. From the table Tino watched Berwald's face darken as he continued to listen to whoever was on the other end of the line. He wasn't sure if it was due to the content of the conversation or whether it was because of the person's voice, which was so loud that Tino could hear snippets of the conversation from almost ten feet away, but either way Berwald did _not _look happy. Tino felt the stirrings of his original fear of the man rise in his stomach. After a couple of minutes, Berwald hung up the phone, relief evident in his posture as he walked back over to the table and sat down.

"What's the news?" Tino's lavendar eyes were filled with anxiety.

"Hn. C'ntry's 'n a nation'l state 'f 'mergency. Airports n'roads closed. P'wers out 'lmost ev'rywhere."

Tino was crestfallen. If the airports were closed, how was he going to get back home? "None of the airports are open?"

Berwald shook his head. "Should be 'n a day r'two. Mos'ly jus' snowed 'n."

The other man looked at least slightly relieved. "Oh, well that's good then! I'll be out of your hair soon!" He smiled, but Berwald's expression didn't change from the scowl that had been there since he'd hung up the phone. It had been so... nice... to wake up to someone in the house, to share his coffee. It felt right, suddenly so much more right than his previous life, the life that the other man wasn't in. He wondered what it would be like to wake up to someone everyday. To wake up to a friend. To wake up to Tino.

From across the table, Tino examined his companion's face. The eyes were turned away, so Tino felt no need to avert his own gaze. Berwald looked troubled. The near-constant wrinkle between his eyebrows was more distinct, and the thin lips were turned downward in a definite frown. His usual expression was so neutral... something must have been bothering him.

"Berwald? Are you alright?"

"Hn." Berwald did not look at Tino's face.

"Uh... okay..."

There was an awkward pause. After a minute or two Berwald stood and headed towards the door, still avoiding looking at Tino's face.

"M'gonna g'work on t'plane."

Before Tino could reply or even stand up, Berwald had put on his long blue coat and swept out of the house. Tino sat at the table for a moment, bemused, before standing himself.

_If we're leaving soon, I might as well pack my stuff..._

At least now he had something to do to pass the time.

oooooo

Outside in the hangar, Berwald sighed in frustration. As much as he tried to block all thoughts of his guest from his mind, they always seemed to sneak in anyway. At this point Berwald had just about given up, and was (not unwillingly) surrendering his brain to obsessing about Tino. The little man's words kept running through his head... "I'll be out of you hair soon." Berwald could not deny that those words had troubled him exceedingly. The more time he spent with Tino, the less he looked forward to saying goodbye.

He knew that in a day or two the plane would be ready for flight, and he would fly Tino back to civilisation. They would part ways, perhaps with a smile, and Berwald would come home. Back to the quiet and the fire and the blinking lights of his computers. Tino _would_ be out of his hair.

But... Berwald didn't want that. He wanted... he didn't know what he wanted. Letting out another frustrated sigh, Berwadl leaned his forehead against the cold metal side of his plane. All this thinking was giving him a headache. He needed to work.

Still distracted by his thoughts of Tino, Berwald began to tinker with the airplane's engine.

oooooo

Tino had found it rather difficult to pack his things. It was surprising how quickly his few possessions had become scattered across Berwald's house. So far he had found his toothbrush in the upstairs bathtub, his wallet on the stairs, and his cellphone on top of the fridge_._ These discoveries had both amused and annoyed him. Why was he so forgetful all the time?

Despite his difficulty, by nine o'clock Tino had managed to repack most of the boxes from his car, and began to work on his suitcase. Berwald had given him permission to use whatever he liked in the house, so he decided to do a load of laundry. It would be nice to have some clean clothes.

He was loading the washer when the first wave of dizziness hit him. Suddenly the world was tilting out of control and Tino couldn't remember which way he was supposed to be standing. He gripped desperately to the side of the washer-so hard his knuckles turned white- and tried to regain his balance.

As quickly as it had come, the fit had gone again and Tino was left reeling and gasping, clutching at the washer for support.

_What the hell was that? _

For a moment he thought of going to Berwald for help, but he pushed that thought aside. He had looked so unhappy earlier... and Tino didn't want to cause him more trouble. No. He was okay... just tired. If it happened again he'd ask for help. Anytime before that and he would just be being a nuisance.

Still shaking slightly, Tino continued to load his clothes into the washer.

oooooo

Several hours had passed by the time Berwald came back in, worn out and covered with oil and dirt. It had been a long struggle, but he was pretty sure he'd be able to get the plane up in the air soon. Just a couple more adjustments to the landing gear and it would all be ready. He frowned at the thought and headed to the shower, not pausing to look for Tino as he did. He was too tired, too grumpy.

By the time he had gotten dressed however, Berwald's conscience was harassing him for not checking up on his guest. Hadn't he looked sick that morning? Hadn't he been worried about him? He had looked so tired...

Berwald set off in search of the other man. Usually he was in the kitchen or in the living room on the couch reading a book, so it was therefore a surprise when Berwald found him in neither of these places. Seriously worried, he headed upstairs. Tino had to be in his bedroom.

His surmise had been correct. Almost cautiously Berwald eased the door open. Tino was lying on the bed with a towel thrown over his eyes. His face was very pale and his cheeks were flushed. Every five seconds or so he would shiver and whimper, his face contorting into an expression of extreme pain.

"T'no?" Berwald almost whispered from the door.

Tino yelped at the sound and clutched at his head. The towel fell from his face, and Tino's startled eyes, glazed over with pain and fatigue, stared up at Berwald from the bed.

"B-Berwald! Don't talk so loud..." Tino grimaced as he said it. His voice was weak and raspy.

He had been whispering before, but Berwald managed to lower his voice even further, until it was barely audible. "Y're sick."

"Oh, no, it's just a migraine. I get them sometimes. I have my medicine, it's nothing to worry about, really-" He was obviously trying to sound cheerful, as he had been that morning, but a series of painful hacking coughs wracked his fragile frame and interrupted his speech.

"N'. Y'look fev'rish." Berwald had by that time made his way over to the bed. He lent down and set a callused hand onto the sick man's forehead. Tino twitched back slightly, but let Berwald check his temperature without protest. If it weren't for the fevered flush already staining his cheeks, he would have been blushing... Berwald's face was very close and his hand was so warm...

After a moment, Berwald pulled back, his face concerned. "Y're burnin' up, T'no. M'gonna bring ya s'methin' t'drink."

Tino said nothing, but nodded weakly as Berwald left the room to get some water.

oooooo

Tino's condition deteriorated rapidly throughout the night. First, he was coughing too hard to even try to drink the glass of water Berwald had brought up to him. Then, when the coughs had finally subsided, he was so weak that he couldn't hold the glass by himself, and Berwald had been forced to tip his head back and pour the water into his open mouth. At around three in the morning he finally fell into a light, restless sleep. Berwald kept vigil all night, only dozing off in his chair once at around five in the morning.

The next day Tino did not get better. He lay in the bed, only moving whenever another coughing fit overtook his body. Berwald stayed in the room, leaving only twice: once to retrieve medicine and food and once to check the atmospheric pressure. The mercury in his barometer was falling. The second blizzard was approaching.

At six thirty that evening, Tino began to cough blood. It was this that finally convinced Berwald that Tino needed to be in a hospital, and he decided on leaving the very next day, blizzard be damned.

oooooo

It took Berwald all night to get the plane ready. Between intermittent checks on Tino, he loaded every one of his guest's boxes into the cargo compartment of the tiny plane. Next, he poured the last of his fuel into the tank. It was still only half full. It would barely get them to the nearest airport. Finally, with some last minute tinkering the landing gear was rigged up well enough for travel, though Berwald doubted it would stay fixed for much longer than one journey.

As the sun was just rising, turning the low, foreboding clouds a deep, tired red, Berwald drove the plane out of the hangar and onto the partially shoveled runway. He had forgotten that they hadn't finished clearing the path... it would be a challenge to get up in the air without crashing into the tall snowbanks at the end of the runway.

Berwald had some difficulty in maneuvering the small plane into takeoff position, and by the time he had done so the wind had picked up and the first snowflakes were beginning to fall. He quickly made his way back inside. Tino was lying in the same position Berwald had left him in. He was awake, but only barely so and too weak to even say hello. Only his eyes, dazed and stricken, were able to fix on Berwald's face.

Carefully, Berwald began to wrap Tino in layers of warm clothing and blankets. Clouded violet looked up at Berwald and he managed to choke out a short sentence.

"Ber... wald... where?..."

"M'takin' ya t'th'hosp'tal."

"But..."

"Shh. Y'shouldn' talk." Berwald continued his task, and when he felt that Tino was sufficiently protected against the cold, he picked the smaller man up in his arms like he had earlier that week and carried him outside to the plane.

oooooo

It took Berwald a while to get Tino situated in the passenger seat of his tiny plane. The blankets kept catching on the door or nearly blowing off in the wind. And Tino was weak, almost unconscious. To Berwald's tired muscles his light body was like a dead weight.

Finally he managed to maneuver the small man into a comfortable sitting position. After buckling Tino in, Berwald closed the door and swept his eyes once more over the body of the plane, checking for any flaws. Finding everything adequate, he hurried over to the other side of the craft and swung himself into the pilot seat. With experienced hands he pressed buttons and pulled levers, bringing the machine to life. The engine sputtered and the propeller began to spin, slowly gaining speed.

The vibration caused by the engine roused Tino, who groaned and tried to extricate himself from the blankets pinning his arms to his sides. Berwald turned and gently pushed Tino back onto his seat, restraining any further movement with a firm hand on Tino's upper arm.

"S'gonna b' a rough ride. Y'should stay p't."

Tino stared at Berwald, his eyes bleary. The orange and red lights on the control panel illuminated the side of his face and emphasized the heavy bags under his eyes and the sickly pallor of his skin. He nodded, his head flopping down onto his chest. With an expression of concern, Berwald reached over the space separating the seats and, placing his hands on either side of Tino's face, carefully lifted his head to recline on the seat cushion behind it. As he withdrew his hands, his fingers barely brushed through Tino's hair.

He blushed slightly, and shivered in a way that had nothing to do with the cold as he turned his attention back to the glowing dials and screens in front of him. He could not afford to let anything distract him while he was flying; the conditions were too dangerous.

Battling with the strong gusts of wind and limited visibility, Berwald managed with difficulty to get the plane ready for takeoff. After checking all his displays and instruments, Berwald put on his headset and began to turn up the engine. The propeller spun faster, until it was only a blur against a white background. The plane began to move.

The plane accelerated down the runway, and the engine ground louder as it resisted the wind and cold. Berwald could tell that the jury-rigged adjustments he had made to the engine would not last for long, but he pushed all negative thoughts aside and focused on getting the tiny craft into the air.

As they approached the end of the shoveled portion of the runway, the plane began to lift. Berwald pulled hard on the joystick, and the wheels left the ground as the craft quickly gained altitude. The wheels just brushed the top of the snowbanks at the end of the runway, and finally the plane was in the air.

oooooo

The flight felt like it lasted days. Berwald could barely steer as strong storm winds buffeted the tiny plane. Due to the snow which was now falling thick and fast through the freezing air, there was barely any visibility, and he was relying mostly on his flight instruments to navigate. He wished he could see, get above the clouds, but the winds were too strong and he could not gain altitude.

Several times he attempted to contact the airport, but he got nothing but static and garbled mumbling. If there was any signal at all, he wasn't picking it up. After the fifth try he growled in frustration, and gripped the joystick with white fingers. Every muscle in his body was tense and tight, and his face was set in a concentrated, squinting scowl. Every few seconds, his restless, tired eyes swept across the control panel, taking in readings from the navigational instruments. He was going too far to the west, he'd have to change course.

As he turned the wheel with difficulty, he looked furtively at Tino. He was awake, and was staring, wide eyed, at the snow outside. Every time the wind jostled the plane he gasped and tried to bury himself deeper in the folds of the restricting blankets. His face was white and terrified. Berwald felt a pang of guilt at causing his companion so much fear, but he repressed it. He needed to focus on flying. Not Tino. Flying.

After several more minutes of nerve-wracking flight, Berwald finally received his first transmission from the airport.

"Unidentified small craft, bearing 90 degrees west, do you copy?" The radio signal was week and was interspersed with static.

"Ox'nst'rna callin' in. I read ya."

"Oxenstierna! What the hell are you doing, flying in this? Are you mad?" A familiar voice crackled through the headphones.

"Got a sick pass'nger on board. Needs 'mediate med'cal 'ttent'n."

"You need to adjust your heading to the east or you'll miss us. Only one runway is ploughed... you might not be able to land."

"C'n ya call n'ambul'nce?"

"Of course. You're going need one too if you're going to try and land here. Crazy bugger."

"Jus' help m'nav'gate, Kirkl'nd."

With the help his compass and altimeter and under the direction of Kirkland, Berwald managed to turn the plane to the right heading, and soon the lights of the small airport finally came into view. Berwald began to lower the plane, the wind becoming slightly less of a problem as it descended. He steered for the glimmering lights of the runway, the only part of the airport he could see through the snowy air.

Relief flooded over him as the wheels touched the pavement and the plane began to decelerate, but it lasted only a short time. He eased on the breaks, but they did nothing. Unhindered, the plane continued down the runway. They were skidding on ice.

Berwald slammed on the brakes, but to no avail. They continued to skid, wobbling back and forth across the icy runway, the wings narrowly missing the snowbanks on either side. Berwald tried to steer, but landing gear had failed and the wheels had locked. He had no control.

Tino whimpered in fear at his side and Berwald realized with horror that there was nothing he could do. Silently he reached out and found the other man's hand. Tino gripped back so hard it hurt. Kirkland's panicked voice transmitted one last time through the headphones before the plane crashed into the snowbank.

"What are you doing, why aren't you stopping? Oh, bloody hell!"

The spinning propeller of the plane collided with the snow with an ear-splitting, metallic crunch and the plane jerked roughly forward. Berwald felt his head hit the control panel and felt the bridge of his glasses snap, but then everything went black and he knew no more.

oooooo

CLIFF HANGER, OH SHIIII-

Seriously though, I did SO MUCH RESEARCH for this chapter! Both for Tino's sickness and Berwald's plane. Did you know that it's really hard to find transcripts of airport radio conversations online? I looked for HOURS 9_9. If there are any pilots out there reading this story, please correct my terminology. It would be great if this could be as realistic as possible. I did my best.

Also, cameos! :D

Thank you so much for reading! The next chapter will be here soon. :)


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **UGH. I am _so _sorry about the lateness of this chapter. I feel horrible for leaving you guys on a cliffhanger like that and then not updating for more than a week. Unfortunately it's probably going to be like that for the next chapter too. It's the final week of term and I have two papers to finish this weekend. Augh!

Anyway, enough about my boring college life! Here is your long awaited chapter!

**Disclaimer:** These characters do not belong to me. Also, no Swedens or Finlands were actually hurt in the making of this chapter, though they were sworn at multiple times.

oooooo

Berwald groaned. He was lying on something soft, and by the way it was rocking back and forth he gathered that it must have been moving. He could see lights flashing past his closed eyelids, and behind the buzzing in his ears he could just make out clattering and muffled voices.

He opened his eyes a crack. The bright light lanced through his head, making him squeeze his eyes shut and groan again. His head hurt. A lot.

His thoughts were jumbled, confused. Where was he? What was happening? He remembered the plane crashing, his glasses snapping. He remembered the heat of Tino's hand clutching to his like a lifeline... Tino! Was Tino alright?

Berwald's eyes snapped open despite the pain in his head and he attempted to sit up. It was only when he was restrained by an indistinct white figure that he realized the movement he was feeling was due to the fact that he was being wheeled through the halls of a hospital in a gurney.

"Don't move." A commanding voice said as its owner shoved Berwald back into a lying position. "You may aggravate your injuries."

Berwald struggled with the strong arms pinning him to the gurney. He tried to formulate a sentence, but found it even more difficult than usual. "Ngh... T'no's 'lright?... 'Live?" He winced. Speaking was a struggle. It was making his head pound even more; he could barely think straight.

"Your passenger is in critical condition, but he will survive."

Relief flooded through Berwald's befuddled senses. Tino was alive. A moment later, however, the anxiety returned. What did they mean by critical condition? How badly was he injured? Was his illness treatable? Berwald needed to know. He needed to know that Tino would be alright. He attempted to sit up again, and was yet again restrained by the militant paramedic.

"You need to keep still. There is no need to worry. You and your companion will be alright. Now I need you to lie back. I am administering a general anesthetic."

Berwald attempted to protest, but there was a sudden pain in his arm. A drowsiness overcame him and he sank back into a deep, artificial sleep.

oooooo

When Berwald woke again he was lying on an uncomfortable hospital bed in an almost featureless room. Though his thoughts were much clearer than they had been during his brief return to consciousness, his head still ached. There were other pains as well, and on further examination Berwald discovered that his right wrist was in a splint and his head was tightly wrapped with bandages. There seemed to be several other patches of blood-stained gauze on his arms and chest.

He examined the room with his blurry vision, squinting to make out where he was. There was a chair in one corner, next to a table with a vase of fake flowers on it. A small television was secured to the ceiling by metal supports in the other corner, next to the window. It was dark outside and thick snow was falling behind the reflective glass. Above his head neon lights buzzed. There was no one in the room.

Berwald lay back on his pillows and closed his eyes. The neon lights flickered a bit, and he strained to remember what information he had gotten about Tino during his confused conversation with the paramedic. The man had said Tino was in critical condition. Again Berwald wondered what that meant. It had been several hours, judging by the change of light outside the window. Was Tino alright?

He opened his eyes again and slowly, painfully sat up. Every part of his body was bruised and bandaged from the crash, and his wrist and head throbbed as he stood. He carefully made his way across the room, occasionally using the wall as a support. He had almost made it to the door when it opened.

The man who entered was dressed in a long white coat. He had an apologetic stoop and his mild blue eyes were partially hidden behind glasses. Berwald assumed he was the doctor.

"Who 're ya?" Berwald hadn't mean to sound so rude, but his speech was still coming slowly and his head was still muddled from the pain.

"Hello, Mr. Oxenstierna. I am Doctor Williams. I was in charge of Mr. Väinämöinen's surgery." Doctor Williams' voice was just as meek as his face and posture.

Berwald's breath hitched in his chest. "Surg'ry?"

"Yes. He suffered a rather nasty compound fracture of the ulna. He also has a minor concussion."

" 'S he gonna b' 'kay?"

"After some recovery, yes." The breath Berwald had been holding was released silently as all the tense muscles in his back relaxed. Dr. Williams continued. "We'll have to keep him for a while though. He seems to have pneumonia as well... I came to ask you some questions, if you are feeling up to answering them."

"'Hn."

"Would you like to sit down, Mr. Oxenstierna? You are also recovering from a concussion."

Berwald sat on the bed and answered the doctor's questions without really paying attention. All his thoughts were focused on where ever Tino was lying, possibly sleeping of the effects of the anesthetic used in the surgery.

It took about half an hour for Dr. Williams to finish his list of questions, mostly pertaining to Berwald's medical history. At the end of it Berwald was irritated and impatient to see for himself that Tino was okay. The doctor's voice suddenly cut through his thoughts.

" Well, Mr. Oxenstierna. You were both very lucky to get out of that crash alive. Save for your fractured wrist, which will take a couple of weeks to heal, you will suffer no long term effects from the accident. Unfortunately Mr. Väinämöinen's pneumonia is highly contagious. We will have to hold you a few days. We need to make sure that you have not caught it as well."

Berwald grunted. He didn't care about that. "C'n I see T'no?"

Doctor Williams had stood and was preparing to leave. He paused and shook his head, smiling. "No. He is still recovering from the surgery, and for now we have quarantined him due to his illness."

"B't..."

"Don't worry, Mr. Oxenstierna, your partner will be fully recovered soon enough."

For a second Berwald did not comprehend what Doctor Williams had said, his mind too preoccupied with his annoyance at not being able to see Tino. When he had processed the doctor's words, however, his tired and jostled brain jammed. _Partner_? "Partner" as in...? Berwald blushed a deep red.

"He's... not... m'partner. J'st a... j'st a guest." Berwald stammered, his face burning.

Doctor Williams looked at him for a second, one skeptical eyebrow raised, before his face took on a look of apology. "I'm sorry, my mistake." He smiled. "Well, I won't bother you anymore. You should try and get some rest. There's a button behind the headboard. If you need anything, press it and a nurse will attend you."

Still extremely flustered by the implications of the doctor's earlier statement, Berwald only nodded absentmindedly in response. Doctor Williams smiled a very knowing smile and exited the room, leaving Berwald to his confused thoughts.

oooooo

Berwald ended up spending three excruciatingly boring days at the hospital. Though the cuts and bruises from the crash had already begun to heal, the effects of the concussion remained, making his speech even slower and more jumbled than usual. On the first day when he had called a nurse for food his words were so unintelligible to the poor woman that he had been forced to use sign language.

By Wednesday it was clear that Berwald was safe from any danger Tino's pneumonia had caused, yet he was still not allowed to visit the sick man. He spent most of his time staring at the cheerless, white walls, listening to the bustle in the halls outside and cursing the buzzing neon lights and the headaches they gave him. The hospital and all it's noises frustrated Berwald more than Tino had when he first invaded his privacy. At least then Tino's voice had been warm, his presence kindly. Here everything was cold, professional, sterile.

He couldn't really figure out why he wanted to see the little Finn so badly. He had only known him for a week after all, and the circumstances of their meeting had been so awkward, and had upset Berwald's routines so badly... no, he really couldn't understand it. And yet he found himself worrying about Tino almost constantly. He knew from Dr. Williams that he was doing well, recovering splendidly, in fact, but somehow this did not ease his mind. He felt like he needed to see Tino, see him smile and hear his voice, cheerful and lilting, to know that he was alright.

And Dr. Williams word... "partner"... seemed to stick in his brain. He could not stop thinking about the implications of that statement. Did their relations really look that way from an outside perspective? He didn't know what to think about that. Yes, Berwald certainly found the pale skin and hair, the smiling eyes to be most alluring, and Tino was so kind to him, and... no! What was he thinking? He knew that Tino couldn't be in his life, not like that. The man wouldn't... couldn't want to have the same solitude that Berwald so desperately felt he needed. This thought produced the same pain he had felt when he thought of saying goodbye to Tino, and again he was surprised. How had such a little, unassuming man invaded his life so quickly? These questions kept him up at night, and Tino's face and voice plagued his dreams.

oooooo

On the morning of the fourth day, Berwald was woken from his restless slumber by a gentle tapping on the door. He grunted and sat up in the bed, searching for his glasses on the bedside table before remembering that they weren't there. At first he did not know what had woken him and squinted around the room in some confusion, but a second later the gentle knocking resumed. Running a hand through his tousled hair in a fruitless attempt to make it look presentable, Berwald muttered a short "c'm in" and prepared himself for the relentless chatter of the nurse who attended him. He was not disappointed.

The door opened and the nurse marched in, a mischievous smile on her face, her long brown hair bouncing with every step she took.

"Good morning, Mr. Oxenstierna! I do hope you slept well!"

He hadn't, but Berwald still grunted in the affirmative.

The nurse bustled around the room, taking Berwald's temperature and cleaning up a bit, talking all the while. For the most part Berwald tuned her out and silently ate the oatmeal she had brought him, but his attention came snapping back when she began to talk about Tino.

"And Mr. Väinämöinen is off the really heavy pain medications for now, so he'll be able to get up and walk around a bit..." She was saying as she examined Berwald's ear.

He stopped eating and turned to her suddenly, making her leap back in surprise.

"Are v'sitors 'llowed?" He asked, trying to keep the urgency out of his voice.

For some reason the nurse's smile widened and her eyes sparked in a way Berwald found rather unnerving. "Oh, I don't see why not. The meds he's on are keeping the pneumonia down too... would you like to go see him?"

Berwald didn't reply, but nodded and stood, setting the tray of food down on the bed.

"Here, I'll lead you too him." She giggled and darted out the door. Berwald suppressed his uneasiness at being stuck with such a guide, but he followed her anyway, eager, despite himself, to see Tino.

oooooo

Berwald knocked quietly on the door the nurse had led him to. It was still quite early in the morning and he didn't want to wake Tino if he was still asleep. However, Tino's sprightly voice calling from inside reassured him that this caution was not necessary. He eased open the door.

The room Tino was situated in was much nicer than Berwald's. The walls were painted a sunny yellow which was rendered even brighter by the morning sunlight streaming from the curtained windows. There were flowers, real ones, standing in a vase in Tino's bedside table. And Tino himself was sitting on the bed, eating his own bowl of steaming oatmeal, beaming up at Berwald as he walked through the door.

"Berwald! I'm so happy to see you!" Tino's voice was still raspy, and he still looked very pale and sick, but he was awake and lively, and obviously on the mend.

Berwald stood awkwardly near the door, not sure what to do now that he was in Tino's presence.

"There's a chair over there" Tino said suddenly, pointing to the corner. "Please sit. You look tired."

Berwald obediently dragged the chair over to Tino's bedside and sat, though he still said nothing. He examined the man lying on the bed. Tino's entire left arm was encased in a heavy cast and was held up by a sling. In addition to the lingering bruises from his car crash, there were also several painful looking cuts on his face and arms. His thin chest was bare, and a large swath of gauze was wrapped around his torso. Berwald felt a surge of guilt at the sight and he began to wonder how he was ever going to apologize for hurting the other man so badly.

"How're ya feelin'?" He mumbled, eyes averted.

"I'm... better. Everything still hurts, but at least I'm conscious. How are _you_? The doctors said you were okay, but they wouldn't let me see you. I was really worried..." Tino's eyes were concerned as he peered up into Berwald's inexpressive face.

"M'okay." He replied, too distracted by the sudden warmth that had spread through his body when Tino had expressed his concern to notice the other man's furrowed brow and slight frown.

"Are you sure you're okay? They told me it was a pretty nasty crash..."

"M'fine." Berwald's eyes traced the cuts on Tino's face again and he paused and looked down. After a second he spoke again, quietly, guilt lacing his words. "M'sorry."

Tino's brow furrowed more. "For what?"

Berwald stared fixedly at the flowers on the table. "Put ya n'danger, flyin' like that. Hurt ya. Shoulda waited till t'storm passed. Or flown ya 'n 'rlier."

Tino was taken aback. He could hear the shame in Berwald's words. It was so strange to see him- such a strong, intimidating, brave man- in such a state. He almost looked scared.

"It's not your fault." Tino said quietly, a soft smile spreading over his face as he reached out his one good hand to brush against Berwald's long fingers. Tino felt him jump at the contact, but he did not pull away. "And anyway, you... you risked your life to help me... I should be the one apologizing. Or thanking you. Or both."

"Hn." Tino could tell that Berwald still felt bad, but the immobile features had softened somewhat. The blue-green eyes flicked up to meet his for an instant before dropping back down. "Y'still got h'rt."

"Yeah, but the impact was what hurt me, not you..." Tino laughed this time, only a bit nervously. He couldn't help but notice that Berwald's face looked much different without his glasses. Without them he seemed younger, almost boyish. Almost cute. Tino blushed slightly and withdrew his hand.

"Um... well... I'm glad you're okay, Berwald. We were lucky."

"Mm." Berwald's frown deepened and Tino scrambled to change the subject.

"W-what are you going to do about getting home? I mean... your plane is probably..."

"S'fine. Snow's soft. J'st t'pr'peller 'n t'nose need some fixin'."

"Oh."

After an awkward moment Berwald stood and walked over to the door.

"Should g'back t' m'room. Don't want t'bother ya."

Tino's face fell slightly and he fiddled with his blankets with his one free hand. "You're not bothering me, Berwald. You could, um..." The blush on his face darkened. "You could stay if you wanted..."

Berwald turned and looked at Tino from the other side of the room, his expression indecipherable. Tino blushed even deeper and looked out the window, suddenly too nervous to meet the larger man's eyes.

"'Kay." The baritone rumble of Berwald's voice came from the door, and in a moment he was back sitting at Tino's bedside.

Tino smiled and turned to pick up the television remote from the side table. "I thought I would watch some TV for a while. Um..." The blush returned in full force. "The Moomins are on..." he added in a small voice.

Berwald stared for a moment, before smiling slightly. Tino was _adorable_ with that flustered, sheepish look on his face...

"S'fine with me."

Tino's face lit up immediately and he happily turned the television on, lying back on his pillows with a look of utter contentment on his face. Berwald simply smiled and turned his attention to the screen, though he routinely glanced back in Tino's direction.

oooooo

Berwald stayed the entire morning in the room, mostly watching television shows or listening to Tino talk. At around noon the giggly nurse returned and brought them both lunch, giving them both a suggestive smile as she flitted around the room, adjusting the curtains and straightening Tino's flowers in their vase. Tino seemed to tolerate her blabbering much better than Berwald, and chatted away with her while she worked, though it was obvious he was also put off by her constant insinuations and winks.

After the nurse left, a comfortable silence settled. Berwald picked up a magazine from the side table while Tino lay down and gradually dozed off, his breath becoming deep and even. Berwald glanced up from the pages of the magazine, another small smile curling the corners of his mouth upwards. Reaching over the bed, he pried the television remote from Tino's fingers before pulling the covers up over his shoulders. Quietly, so as not to wake Tino, he got up and headed for the door, but before he could get there there was a knock and two figures preceded by the chatty nurse entered.

The nurse glanced over to Tino's bed and pressed a finger to her lips, gesturing for the two men standing in the doorway to come in. She turned to Berwald and spoke in a breathy whisper.

"Mr. Väinämöinen has some visitors. You won't mind, will you?"

"Nh." Berwald's attention had turned to Tino's newly arrived guests. The taller man was staring at him, a mix of awe and terror plain on his face. The other, much shorter and younger looking, was not even attempting to hide his fear of the towering Swede, and was cowering behind the other man, shaking. Berwald didn't know whether to feel annoyed at their reaction or sorry that he was scaring them so much. He decided on the latter.

"H'lo." He mumbled awkwardly.

The two men jumped and shrunk back at the sound of his voice. After a tense moment the taller of the two cautiously extended a hand and spoke for the first time in a shaky voice.

"H-Hello... er... I'm Eduard, T-Tino's friend. And th-this is Raivis, my brother. It's nice to m-meet you, Mr...?"

Berwald took Eduard's hand and shook it briefly. "'xenst'rna."

It was obvious that Eduard did not quite understand Berwald's accented, truncated words, but he smiled hesitantly anyway, though there was fear still plainly etched in his features. The younger one only squeaked and attempted to hide himself more fully behind his brother.

"Um... I-I don't mean to be rude but... what are you doing here Mr. Oxenstierna? I d-don't think I've ever met you before."

Berwald was struggling to come up with an answer that would make sense when the nurse at his side came to his rescue.

"He was the one who flew Mr. Väinämöinen to safety! Very romantic in my opinion!" She laughed, perhaps a bit maniacally (or so it seemed to Berwald) and went over to Tino to check his temperature.

Eduard stared after her, perplexed, fortunately missing the tinge of red that had appeared on Berwald's high cheekbones at the mention of the word "romantic." After a second he turned back to Berwald, and with no small effort looked into his face.

"Well! Thank you for looking out for him then! I.. uh... we're all very grateful that he'll be okay."

"Hn." Berwald turned away from Eduard and Raivis. He could tell he was scaring the hell out of them. It would be better if he just left and let them visit Tino in peace.

"'ll b'goin' then." He muttered before heading out the door. He heard Eduard breathe a sigh of relief as he closed the door behind him and headed back to his room.

oooooo

Back in the cheery yellow room, Tino was roused by the sound of familiar, friendly voices. He sat up much to quickly in bed, earning himself a disapproving glare from the nurse.

"Eduard! Raivis!" He nearly yelled in his excitement, smiling broadly. "What are you doing here?"

Eduard smiled and sat down in the recently vacated chair. "We thought it would be nice to visit you. Feliks and Toris couldn't come, but they send their regards. We are all very worried about you."

Tino suppressed a snort at the thought of the havoc Feliks would cause if he was allowed into the hospital. "Well, I'm really happy to see you..." He trailed off, noticing Berwald's absence for the first time. "Was there someone else here when you came in? A... uh... a really tall Swedish guy?"

Raivis's squeaky voice sounded from where he was standing, still trembling, next to the window. "Y-you mean the scary man who was here earlier?"

Eduard offered a slightly more descriptive question. "Mr. Oxenstierna?"

Tino frowned. "Yeah, Berwald. He left?"

The nurse piped up from where she was sitting at the shelf, filling out forms. "He went back to his room."

"Oh..." Despite the presence of his friends, Tino suddenly felt out of sorts. Why had Berwald left? Did he feel awkward with his friends around? Tino suddenly felt sorry for Berwald, sorry that such a kind, good man, the man who had now saved his life at least twice, felt he had to ostracize himself from other people.

Eduard noticed Tino's dejection with some surprise; it wasn't like him to be so unhappy looking. He adjusted his glasses and nervously cleared his throat, making his brother jump slightly.

"So Tino... we've all been very curious about your adventures up north..."

Tino perked up at the thought of telling the story to his friends, though a part of his mind still lingered on Berwald.

"Well then! You should probably both sit down! It's quite a story..."

oooooo

On the next day Berwald was informed by Doctor Williams that he was allowed to leave. They had found no trace of pneumonia in his system, and his wrist was healing perfectly. Almost half an hour later he got an irritated call from his supervisor, asking where he was and why he hadn't been sending in data for the past five days. Berwald decided, however much he did not want to leave while Tino was still sick, that it was time to go home.

Tino was awake and watching the television when Berwald arrived at the room, though he turned it off as soon as Berwald walked in.

"Hyvää huomenta, Berwald!" He said, sitting up in the bed. "How are you?"

"G'd." Berwald replied, stopping himself from smiling at Tino's use of his native language as he sat in the chair next to the bed. "N'you?" Though it had only been a day since he had last seen Tino, the cuts and bruises on his arms were already beginning to heal and fade. In addition, he looked well-rested and the colour was returning to his cheeks, though his face was certainly still pale and his voice still rough from coughing.

"I'm alright. Doctor Williams told me that you're well enough to be released." He was smiling, but it did not quite reach his eyes.

"Hn. Gotta g'back t'work. Boss called m'this mornin'."

Tino made a face. "My work won't let me back until I'm fully recovered. I'm going to miss at least a month."

Berwald frowned, guilt worming its way back into his chest. "How're ya gonna get h'me? Don't h've a car."

The other man smiled brightly at this. "Oh, that's nothing to worry about. I live about five blocks away from the hospital. I used to work here."

Berwald suddenly remembered what Tino had told him about being a therapist. Somehow this made him feel worse. How could he have forgotten?

"Hn."

There was a brief silence before Tino broke it, his voice slightly less cheerful than it had been.

"I, um... I'm going to miss you, Berwald."

Berwald grunted and looked away, trying to hide the warm blush which was spreading over his face. Tino smiled at his reaction and continued.

"You should come visit me the next time you fly in for supplies. I'd be happy to have you over. I should give you my phone number..." He chattered away, talking about the food he would make and how he would manage to get the day off so they could go somewhere. Berwald sat silently and listened, his mood lifting a bit at the prospect of seeing Tino again. After a couple of minutes Tino remembered his first statement and scribbled down his number on a scrap of paper, handing it to Berwald before lying back on his pillows and sighing. He looked out of the window, his face tired and his smile fading.

Berwald, sensing that it was time to go, stood and replaced the chair in its original spot in the corner before heading slowly to the door. He didn't really want to leave, but he had to see to his plane... he stopped and turned as he heard rustling behind him. Tino had thrown off his covers and was standing barefoot on the cold tile floor. He was clutching nervously at his flimsy hospital gown as he looked up at Berwald's face. There was not a trace of his original fear in his expression, not even in his round violet eyes, which were locked with Berwald's, a mix of sadness, kindness, and confusion moving through them. He smiled suddenly and Berwald could not repress the blush that broke out on his face. Tino's smile was captivating.

"Fly safe." He said, holding out his hand.

Berwald took it, almost hesitantly, grunting as a reply.

Tino laughed. "Goodbye, Berwald." He went to go sit back in his bed, tired from his brief exertion on the vertical plane.

"G'bye." Berwald paused at the door, looking back to Tino on the bed with an odd expression on his face. After a few seconds he turned and exited the room, gently shutting the door behind him.

oooooo

ARGH. This took me so long to write! I re-wrote the last scene like six times before I was halfway satisfied with it. I am still really not too happy with this chapter, I feel like it's too fast and has too much dialogue and exposition. But it needed to be written... FOR THE PLOT! Worry not. After this chapter it will return to your regularly scheduled fluffiness! :)

And once again, thank you so much for reading/reviewing/so on. It means so much to me to hear what you think of this story and that you enjoy it!

Also also: A special thank you to those people who helped me with the flying stuff from Chapter 5. I was kind of joking when I asked for pilots, but I never expected I would actually get advice from any! :D I will probably get around to editing that scene after I finish the story. I've been reading previous chapters and there's some stuff I want to tinker with.

Also Also Also: There are FIVE cameos in this. Four are pretty obvious. The fifth is a stretch. Can you guess it? :D


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **Oh. My. God. Two weeks. Two goddam weeks. I am so so so sorry, my dear readers. I didn't mean for this to take so long. This first semester of college really took it out of me. Well. Now I'm home for three months! Hopefully that means faster updates.

And again, thank you for your reviews and your reading. I am so honoured that you enjoy my story! It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside when I read your reviews. :)

Anyway, I've really been looking forward to writing this part of the story. Russia is involved, and I do love me some Russia.

Also, another note. To my American readers, it may seem like occasionally I spell things strangely (aka the British/Canadian way). "Colour", "practise", so on. The spell check I use is American, so sometimes it changes that. Other times it does not. I'm sorry if I have more than one spelling of anything if that's confusing.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own these worthy dudes. Hidekaz Himaruya does.

oooooo

Though it was still only early March, Tino was sure he could smell a hint of spring in the air. The day was mild and a warm, playful breeze blew through the bare branches of the trees in the park. Despite the earliness of the season, tiny buds were already beginning to swell on the sap-reddened twigs and birds were beginning to make their way back into the city, filling the air with song. Here and there a tenacious little flower poked its timid head through the melting snow. All was freshness, rebirth, and Tino marveled at how even the drabbest and bleakest of city sidewalks could be rejuvenated by the arrival of spring.

Tino observed the people walking by from his hunched position on the park bench. The last six weeks had been weeks of boredom and frustration for the poor man. Though his pneumonia had long ago subsided, the practise he worked for was still wary about allowing him back to work directly with patients, so for another two weeks Tino was confined to his apartment with very little to do. Furthermore, with his arm still healing and still encased in a cumbersome cast, he found it a challenge to do even the simplest tasks, and was reduced most days to lying on the couch watching TV or reading.

Though he found these passtimes enjoyable at first, after six weeks of nothing but game shows and soap opera reruns, Tino felt like he was going to go insane. In order to fight the cabin fever, he had begun to take daily walks through the city. These walks had done a lot to assuage his boredom, and he started to look forward to them as the one bright spot in his otherwise dull and repetitive days. They did nothing, however, to ease his overwhelming loneliness.

Tino was not friendless, and in the past weeks he had had a steady stream of visitors and well-wishers. Eduard visited most often, at least twice a week, and Toris and Feliks would sometimes accompany him. Usually the good friends would just sit and chat, but sometimes Tino was dragged out to dinner or a party. He usually had fun on such outings, but for the last month they had been almost torturous.

It had been a while, but he found that there were still lingering effects from the crash and his concussion, and crowded, dark, noisy places gave him a headache. And though it had been almost a month since the last symptoms of his pneumonia had faded, Tino still felt weak and fatigued. He knew his friends meant well, taking him out and trying to show him a good time, but after the third or fourth time he just started wishing that they'd leave him alone.

It was during the long hours alone in his tiny apartment after his friends had left for the day that Tino realised how much he missed Berwald. His tall, quiet, intriguing acquaintance had not called since their final parting in the hospital more than a month earlier, and though he knew that Berwald was probably very busy, he couldn't help but feel a bit unhappy at the lack of communication. He had liked Berwald despite his terrifying height and doleful expression, had enjoyed his company.

Berwald had been so... different from his other friends. The intimidating Swedish man was certainly not much of a conversationalist, but it had been so nice, for once, to have a change from the hyperactive Feliks, the always chatty and rambunctious Eduard, and the timid and apologetic Toris. It had been nice, Tino reflected, as he sat on the bench watching shoes flash by against the pavement, to be with Berwald. To have a quiet that was natural, comfortable, companionable.

Tino sighed, cupping his face with his functioning hand, and stared at his feet for a moment before absentmindedly looking up into the faces of the passing pedestrians. His thoughts wandered, his many anxieties trooping through his head. What to do about work? The car payment? The rent? There were so many things to worry about. Tino wished he had someone he could talk to about these anxieties. Some one who would listen. Who would understand.

Suddenly he was snapped out of his meandering reverie. A face he knew had flashed through the sea of faces.

_No... it couldn't be..._

Tino jumped to his feet and squinted into the crowd, searching frantically for the familiar scowl, the cold eyes. He found what he was looking for without difficulty. At six feet, Berwald towered over the heads of most in the crowd, and his flaxen hair stood out in stark contrast to the wintry grey of the city.

Tino dove into the crowd, weaving through the walking people, ducking under arms and skittering around men in business suits. It took him a while to catch up to the other man's long strides, and by the time he had gotten in earshot, he was gasping for breath.

"B-Berwald!" He managed to shout, raising his hand in greeting. The other man stopped and turned at the sound of his name, obviously surprised. His eyes widened when he saw Tino approaching.

"Berwald! Hey!" Tino panted, clutching a stitch in his side.

Berwald stared down at the shorter man, a muted expression of astonishment on his face. It was obvious that he was very surprised to see Tino.

"H'lo."

Tino smiled at the sound of the familiar mumbling accent. "How have you been, Berwald? It's been a while..."

"Hn. M'okay." The taller man's eyes narrowed slightly as he gave Tino an investigative once-over. "N'ya? Yer arm?"

"I'm doing alright. I'll be out of the cast in two or three weeks!" He glanced at Berwald's hand. The splint was gone. "Wow! Your wrist healed really fast!"

Tino felt the all-too-familiar awkward silence expanding between them as Berwald gave no response. He laughed nervously.

"S-so are you in town for supplies? Your plane is all fixed and everything?"

Berwald only nodded, not taking his eyes from Tino's face.

"Oh... okay." Tino paused, desperately searching for something interesting to say. "W-Well... you're probably really busy... I should let you get going..." Why was everything so awkward again? And why did he feel so nervous all of a sudden?

Berwald's face darkened slightly at this suggestion. It looked as if he was going to say something, but after a moment he instead only grunted and looked down at the ground. Tino almost sighed in relief when the piercing turquoise eyes broke contact with his. He knew Berwald was really a kind person, but he was still so... intense. It was hard to handle even after six weeks apart from the man.

Tino peered into Berwald's averted face. He almost looked sad... A sudden idea, perhaps a crazy one, popped into Tino's head.

"Listen, Berwald, you probably have stuff you need to do and I need to get going, but why don't you come to my place for dinner? I'd love to have you over. That is if you're still in town..."

Berwald's head had snapped back up, colour rising to his cheeks, his stare practically drilling into Tino's eyes. Tino almost laughed at his expression. To anyone else such a concentrated glare would seem terrifying, but to him it just looked wide-eyed and hopeful. Well, as hopeful as a face like Berwald's could look, anyway.

"Sounds nice." Berwald mumbled eventually, his eyes shifting and focusing on an undefined point above Tino's head, though the startled blush still remained.

"Oh good! Is six a good time for you?" Berwald nodded. "Wonderful! One second... I'll give you my address..." Tino rummaged around in his pockets for a moment- an action made slightly awkward by his immobilized arm- and extracted a pen and a scrap of paper. He scribbled his street and apartment number on it before handing it to Berwald. The taller man took it and tucked it away in a pocket.

Tino smiled broadly, bouncing on the balls of his feet in his enthusiasm. "Great! Well, I'll see you later today, then, Berwald!"

And before Berwald could even utter another stunted syllable, Tino had turned on his heal and practically skipped down the sidewalk, grinning like an idiot. Berwald only stood and stared after the retreating Finn, the already-present blush deepening.

oooooo

It had taken him a while, but after a concerted effort and three hours of intense labour Tino had finally managed to clean his apartment. He swept his eyes around the kitchen, searching for stains or crumbs he had not already eradicated with his broom or bottle of cleaning fluid. Finding none, he nodded in satisfaction before turning to check the time for the hundredth time that day.

It was six twenty. Berwald was late. A sudden anxiety rose in Tino's stomach. What if Berwald had gotten hopelessly lost in the winding roads of the city? What if he hadn't ever actually wanted to come at all, and had only said yes to make Tino go away? No... that last one couldn't be true. Berwald had looked genuinely happy when Tino had invited him over. Tino sighed, obsessively examining the kitchen one last time before moving on to the living room. Finding nothing at fault there either, Tino fell to agitated pacing.

Ten minutes later, when his nervousness was reaching its peak, the doorbell finally rang. Tino practically lunged at the door, unlocking the locks in such a haphazard fashion that he had to go back several times to correct them before being able to open the door, smile in place.

Berwald was standing outside in the hall in his signature blue trench coat, staring at his feet, his gloved hands stuffed deeply into his pockets. He looked up at Tino as the door opened.

"H'lo. Sorry fer bein' late. Couldn' find yer 'partm'nt."

Tino beamed up at his guest. "That's alright, I got lost a lot when I first moved here. Would you like to come in? The coat rack is on your left." He opened the door a bit wider to allow for the broadness of the other man's shoulders as he stepped into the little foyer.

Berwald hastily unbuttoned his coat and kicked off his shoes and then turned to Tino, examining him in silence.

It was strange, Tino thought as he submitted himself to the intense scrutiny, to have Berwald in his apartment with him. Very strange. Before he had only known him surrounded by his quiet, lonely house in the isolation of the northern woods. Now, seeing him in the city, surrounded by people, cars, and modern buildings, he seemed out of place, ill at ease. For a moment Tino could understand why the man had chosen to live so far from everyone else.

Tino shifted his weight from foot to foot, quickly growing uncomfortable under Berwald's steady gaze.

"Uh... So. I can't really cook with my arm and everything, so I was thinking I could order out somewhere. There's a really nice pizza place down the road, and a Chinese place that delivers... but there are other options too, if you want something different." Tino smiled, hoping that perhaps it would do something to diffuse the awkwardness that seemed to have returned to their interaction.

Berwald nodded and spoke for the first time since entering the apartment. "M'fine with what'ver y'want."

"Oh... er... okay. I guess I'll order from Yao's then. Is that fine with you?"

"Hn."

"Okay... would you like to sit down?" Tino asked, moving towards the door to the living room. "It's much nicer than standing in the foyer."

Berwald followed without a word, and was led into a small, cozy room comfortably and stylishly furnished. Tino situated his guest on the small couch before walking to the door. "Would you like anything to drink? I have a nice bottle of wine somewhere, if you want something alcoholic. I also have juice, milk, water..."

"Wine sounds good."

"Okay! I'll go find it. Just make yourself at home!" Tino smiled cheerfully and left the room.

oooooo

Left to his own devices in Tino's living room, Berwald took the opportunity to observe his surroundings. It was a nice room, small and convenient, illuminated by a dim, warm light. The furniture was nice and everything was neat and clean. Unlike the conspicuously bare walls of Berwald's house, Tino's were covered in paintings and photographs: friends, family, scenes of snowy Finland. It was a pleasant, cheerful abode, one Berwald would have matched with the diminutive Finn immediately.

Berwald's observations were interrupted by Tino's return with the take-out menu. "I'm having a little trouble finding the wine, so I thought we could order now. Er... what would you like?" He handed the menu to Berwald, who took it and leafed through it absentmindedly before handing it back.

"Don't care. I'll take what'ver yer havin'."

"Does vegetable lo mein sound good?"

"Hn."

"O-okay... I'll go order then." Tino hurriedly returned to the kitchen to place the order. Berwald listened to Tino's muffled voice as he spoke to the person on the other end of the line, and after several moments in which he assumed Tino had hung up the phone, there sounded the metallic clattering of pots and some swearing in Finnish before a joyful "Aha! There you are!" Several moments later Tino re-entered the room with a bottle and two glasses.

"It's a cheap brand, but it's pretty good. I don't drink it too often, but it was from a friend, so..." He explained while he poured out two glasses. He took a sip and made a face. "This is _not_ going to go with the Chinese food..."

Berwald smiled slightly as he took a sip of his own drink, examining Tino covertly over the rim of the glass as he did so. The perfect, pale skin of his face was unmarred by any cuts or bruises, there was a definite colour to his cheeks, and every movement of his lithe, fragile form suggested youth and vigour. Quite an attractive change from the sick, pale, battered man he had left in the hospital six weeks earlier.

Berwald flushed slightly at the thought and refocused on his wine. He was already distracted enough as it was, and thinking about how attractive Tino was was not going to make that any better. Berwald was shaken out of his befuddled thoughts by Tino's voice.

"So how has work been going for you?"

"S'fine. Nothin' 'nterestin'."

"Oh... sounds like we've both been bored then." Tino smiled wryly.

"Mm."

An awkward silence fell. Berwald was still feeling bemused. Six weeks earlier he had returned to his solitary existence, fully expecting to never see his surprise visitor again. At first this had bothered him. The house seemed empty, dead, and cold without Tino.

After several weeks of his reinstated routine, however, the pain Berwald felt at Tino's absence lessened considerably. He was able to work and sleep without distraction.

Now, with Tino sitting next to him on the couch, sipping his wine in a contemplative manner and waiting for some sort of conversation to magically materialize out of thin air, Berwald wasn't quite sure what to do. Back in Tino's presence, he felt better than he had for weeks. His soft, accented voice soothed his mind, and his face was friendly and open, and he realized that he had missed the little Finn terribly. It was an odd feeling for him, desiring company more than solitude, something he had never wanted before.

While Berwald had been silently staring at his glass of wine, Tino had also been shooting furtive glances in the direction of his guest. Berwald seemed... troubled. Like he had the morning nearly two months earlier when Tino had gotten sick. The blue-green eyes that had so frightened Tino at first were narrowed, and the brow above them furrowed in thought. The corners of his lips were pulled down in a decided frown and he was fiddling with the edge of his glass. Though the range of his expressions was limited, Berwald looked distracted, bothered. Tino hesitantly shifted his position so he could peer up into the darkened face.

"Are you okay, Berwald? You don't look so good."

Berwald almost jumped at the sound of Tino's voice. He had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he had almost forgotten that the other man was there.

"S'nothin'. Had a long day."

"You can relax here you know. If you want to take a nap or anything, I wouldn't mind."

"S'fine." Berwald said, looking away, though the deep furrow between his eyes had disappeared and the tense muscles in his shoulders visibly relaxed.

oooooo

Several minutes later the doorbell rang and Tino jumped up to retrieve their food. He met the harrassed-looking delivery man at the door and paid him before taking the grease-soaked paper bag from him and setting it on the kitchen table. By this time Berwald had followed him into the tiny apartment kitchen.

Tino gestured for Berwald to sit before handing him his take-out box of food. It was greasy and salty, but delicious none the less, and Berwald was very thankful for the chance to have something that varied from his usual austere diet in the cabin.

Across the table, Tino watched with great amusement as Berwald stalwartly battled with his chopsticks for dominance, picking up the same carrot four times before finally managing to get it into his mouth. His deadpan expression never changed through the entire scene, even when he was victorious, and it was all Tino could do to stop himself from laughing out loud. That wouldn't be polite.

The conversation over dinner was casual and light, with Tino doing most of the talking, as always. Six home-bound weeks had left him with not much to talk about, however, and periods of conversation were interspersed with long, uncomfortable pauses that had Tino desperately searching for a topic and Berwald silently regretting his complete lack of social skills.

It was during one of these awkward lulls, as Tino was clearing the table for dessert, that the doorbell rang again. He looked down at Berwald with apology in his eyes.

"Dessert may have to wait. It might be a patient."

Berwald grunted in reply and took the plates from Tino's hands, standing as he did so. "I'll clean t'plates."

Tino was too busy to reply for a moment, focusing on the fleeting brush of fingers and Berwald's alarmingly close proximity as he passed the plates over. "Oh y-you don't have to-" His stammering protest was cut off by the bell's annoying buzzing. "I... I should go answer that..." he mumbled and nearly ran out of the room, thanking all of the gods of convenient timing as he did so.

Back in the kitchen Berwald slowly made his way to the sink to wash the dishes. Though Tino had closed the kitchen door on the way out, muffled voices were still audible through the cracks, though the words were indistinct. Through the wall he could hear Tino's characteristic cheerful tones, though the mystery person's voice was still too quiet to make out.

It struck Berwald as he was drying off the plates that Tino's voice seemed off somehow. He was still talking, being his friendly self, but Berwald thought he could detect an undercurrent of... something else. Something that put Berwald on guard. He strained his ears to hear Tino as he spoke, and realized with alarm that the undertone he was hearing was fear. It was the same tone Tino had used the first couple of days of their acquaintance. Tino was afraid. But why?

Suddenly the mysterious visitor raised his or her voice and for the first time it was discernible from Tino's. It seemed pleasant enough, high, almost childlike in its cadences, but for some unknown reason it put Berwald on edge to hear it. Perhaps it was the giggles that separated every sentence, or perhaps it was the rising exasperation and fear in Tino's words. His voice was loud enough for Berwald to hear what he was saying now. He sounded terrified.

"Yes, yes, I _know." _There was a pause and a murmur before Tino spoke again. "I understand the urgency, but you know my business hours. There are others at the practise that can-" The high voice interrupted and spoke again in a wheedling, obsequious way. Berwald heard Tino breath a shaky sigh. "Thank you for asking, but I have someone over right now, I really can't... If you'd like to come back tomorrow during my normal business day I'll be happy to help you." Another pause, another murmur before Berwald heard quick footsteps. "Alright, thank you, yes, I will. Now _goodnight_ Ivan." The door latch clicked and the sound of locks sliding back into place carried through the closed door before the apartment fell silent.

Almost cautiously Berwald approached the hallway door and opened it. On the opposite side of the hall, near the door, Tino was in the process of sliding down the wall to sit in the fetal position on the floor. He was breathing heavily, as if he was trying not to cry, and the graceful hand clutching at his hair was shaking. He didn't look up as Berwald walked over and squatted next to him, too preoccupied to notice his approach.

Tentatively, Berwald reached out a comforting hand, but pulled back immediately when Tino jumped and yelped at the touch. His eyebrows knitted together. "Y'okay?"

For a moment Tino stared at him, wild-eyed and uncomprehending before lowering his face and running a hand through his platinum hair. He took another deep, shuddering breath before nodding slightly. "I... I'll be fine."

Berwald had difficulty believing that statement, if the unshed tears in Tino's eyes were anything to go by.

"H'was that?"

Tino didn't say anything at first. He was still taking deep calming breaths and his voice was still shaky when he finally did speak. "That was... a former patient of mine. He... uh. He likes to come over and see how I am."

The blue-green eyes narrowed in concern and again Berwald reached out a hand and placed it on Tino's shoulder. Tino flinched, but did not jump away as before.

" 'ften?"

Tino looked up at Berwald with a mix of annoyance and resignation in his eyes. "Yeah... a... a lot."

There was a moment of silence as Tino continued to try to calm himself and Berwald digested this information. He had heard the name of Tino's mysterious stalker... Ivan? Yes, that had been it.

"Uh... Berwald?" Tino's voice was still shaky, but he was no longer trembling and his breathing was even.

Berwald said nothing, but it was clear that Tino had his attention.

"I... I know that you probably have more important things to do than spend time with me, but... um... could you maybe stay here a bit longer? I'd feel... safer if you were here with me." He was twiddling his fingers nervously.

Berwald tilted his head, his eyes sill narrowed in concern, though a faint blush was visible on his cheeks. Tino would feel _safer _with _him_? He didn't know how to respond to that, emotionally or verbally, so he instead nodded and stood, offering a helping hand to Tino- who was still sitting on the floor- as he did.

Tino took it and heaved himself into a standing position. He wobbled for a moment, unbalanced by his cast, before regaining his footing and smiling timidly at the towering Swede by his side.

"Thank you."

"Hn."

"Er... would you like to watch a movie or something?"

Another grunt, one Tino recognized as one of agreement. He headed off to the living room to pick out a movie. He didn't really notice what he chose, his mind to preoccupied to care, but he popped it into the player anyway. As the movie began and he settled on the couch next to Berwald, Tino's mind was an agonized snarl of anxieties. Rent, health, work, Ivan. Especially Ivan. Tino curled up into a more defensive position on the couch, holding his knees to his chin. What was he going to do about Ivan?

But... at least Berwald was there. He didn't really know why, but Tino felt safe with Berwald. He knew implicitly that the man, however huge and scary and taciturn he was, would never hurt him. Tino smiled a private little smile and glanced shyly in the direction of his guest. Berwald'is posture suggested that his attention was riveted to the TV, but from the look in those sharp, intelligent, aquamarine eyes Tino could tell that his thoughts lingered far away from the movie, far away from everything in the tiny apartment.

Meanwhile, Berwald was thinking about Tino. He had looked so helpless, curled up on the floor and shaking like that... Berwald knew that Tino was a grown adult and could probably take care of himself just fine, but for some reason he had the overwhelming urge to protect the little Finn from harm. He hadn't liked seeing those unshed tears glistening in Tino's conflicted violet eyes.

He gave Tino a fleeting look from across the couch. His face was focused on the screen of the television, but he looked preoccupied and unhappy. Berwald almost reached out to touch the man's shoulder again, but stopped before his hand had even lifted fully from the couch cushion. No... Tino probably wanted space. He had flinched away so violently before... it probably wasn't a good idea to get too near to him at the moment...

With a start, Berwald realized that he had been staring, and that he had subconsciously been admiring Tino's delicate features and slight figure. He coughed and refocused on the movie. It was no good, however, and his eyes wandered back to his small companion more than once before the movie ended and they said goodnight.

oooooo

Okee dokee! Chapter Seven is done! (_finally_)

I have some notes.

To the anonymous reviewer **UncreativeUsernameofDoom**: OMFG YES OF COURSE YOU CAN DRAW ART BASED ON THAT PASSAGE HOLY CRAP ALDKFHLAKDFH. My only requirement is that you post it online and send me the link so I can see your art in all its prettiness and so I can supply a link in an author note (unless you don't want to show it off. But I still want to see it!) And thank you so much. You pretty much made my month by asking me that. :) :) :)

To those who guessed the cameos: Together you got them all right! Canada, Estonia, and Latvia were all pretty obvious. Hungary was the nurse. And to the two people who got it, yes, Germany is the paramedic. He will reappear later (OMG SPOILERS) because I'm evil. Also, I completely forgot about Denmark (Berwald's boss) being mentioned there. Discerning readers are discerning. :D

Also: I am an arteest. I was thinking of drawing some of my own illustrations of some of these scenes and such. Would you be interested in looking at those?


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N**: Well, that took a month. I am so dreadfully sorry for the delay. I worked on this whenever I could. Unfortunately the next chapter is just as much of a monster as this one, and it may be sometime before I update again. This is about 7000 words long, though, so at least it's something substantial.

Also, good lord, I love writing Ivan! And Feliks! And Toris and Alfred and Berwald and and and...

**Warnings**: Strong language, romantic goop, Feliks, and crazy Russians.

**Disclaimer**: I own them not.

The first of June was the hottest day of the year so far, and sweat began to run down the back of Tino's neck almost as soon as he stepped out of the air conditioned safety of his practise. He squinted through the wavering air at the bright, cloudless sky and groaned. It was going to be a long, unpleasant walk to the airport.

Over the last few months, Berwald had visited him every time he made supply runs. It quickly became a tradition that, every first week of the month, and sometimes more frequently, he would appear at the apartment door with a bottle of wine or a box of food. Tino would open the door with a smile and they would eat or sit and watch television.

After Berwald's second visit, during which he had again had difficulty finding the apartment, Tino insisted that they meet at the airport. He found it amusing that the Swede's navigational skills, while unmatched when flying, were about as well developed as his own on the ground. It was better, he had argued to a quietly defiant Berwald, if they simply walked back together. That way Berwald wouldn't get lost.

After Tino's repeated pleas, Berwald had finally conceded, perhaps with a bit of reluctance, and so for the past two months Tino had arrived at the airport a little after four to escort his friend home.

Tino always looked forward to these walks. Berwald never said much (but then, he never had) but when conversation did happen it was nice, if a bit one-sided. It gave both a chance to catch up on each other's news, though there was rarely anything much worth talking about. Occasionally their walks would lead them past a favourite restaurant or café of Tino's and they would stop for a bit and eat. Privately, Tino referred to these walks as dates, but he would never tell Berwald that.

Sighing, Tino started off for the airport at a brisk pace, with a renewed bounce in his step at the prospect of seeing Berwald again.

After four blocks, however, he had been forced to slow down. The heat was almost too much, and he couldn't keep up the speed he had been going without panting. After eight blocks he was dizzy from the sun and exertion, and was forced to sit down on a bus stop bench, gasping for breath. It was so damn _hot _and there was not a taxi in sight, and even if there had been, he had no money. Frustrated, Tino flicked his sweaty bangs from his brow and leaned his aching head against the plexiglass wall of the kiosk. He'd never get to the airport in time now.

Distracted by his thoughts and his headache, Tino did not notice the large, red SUV pull up to the curb, nor did he notice the driver hanging out of the lowered window as the vehicle slowed down and stopped in front of where he sat. What did get his attention, however, was the all-to-familiar voice that called his name.

"Tino! _Privet_! Are you waiting for the bus?"

Tino snapped his head forward and focused his eyes on the smiling features of Ivan Braginski. "Hello, Ivan." He said, his face and tone carefully controlled to sound cheerful, though he was mentally cursing in every language he knew. _Why, why, WHY_? _Why does he always seem to find me?_

Ivan giggled. "Oooh, Tino is not happy with me, da? Is it the sunflowers? I thought Tinushka liked flowers."

Tino sighed, noting both the nickname and the reference to the gifts of sunflowers the man constantly sent him. "I do like flowers, Ivan. Its just... this heat is a little overwhelming."

"I see. Where is dear little Tino going, then? Vanka could give him a ride, da?" Ivan practically cooed, smiling in a way that never quite reached his eyes. Even if he was used to it, Tino still found that expression incredibly unnerving.

"I-I'm fine Ivan. I was just resting for a second."

"Hmmmm, okay!" Ivan giggled again. "Tino is so cute when he is angry. Vanka will give him _extra _sunflowers this week! Hahaha!"

"Ivan..." But it was too late. Ivan's car had already zoomed off down the road, echoes of his childish laughter ringing in Tino's ears.

Growling in frustration, Tino raked his hands down his face. _Perkele! He's following me... And I can't just call the police..."_

As he sat there attempting to get his emotions under control, he was again interrupted as yet another car pulled up the curb, this one a sleek black convertible. This time, however, the faces that greeted Tino from the front seats were much more welcome.

"Sigurd! Erik! Oh, I'm so happy to see you!" He chirped, his mood suddenly improving drastically.

"Was that Ivan that just drove off?" The monotone voice of his Norwegian coworker betrayed no emotion, but Tino could tell he was concerned.

"Y-yes. He saw me and wanted to know how I was. He left pretty quickly though..."

"I still don't understand why you haven't called in the authorities in this case."

Tino sighed for the umpteenth time that afternoon. "You _know _why I don't want to, Sigurd."

"Yes, yes, you want to help him. You're a psychologist, Tino. Don't you see that reasoning with obsessive love is fruitless?"

"He's... I don't want to reason with him, I just want to show him that we can be friends."

Sigurd rolled his dull blue eyes, but he was smiling slightly. "Where are you going, anyway? You left early."

"Oh! To the airport to pick someone up. But it's so hot, I got tired."

" 'Someone'? Cryptic, Tino. Have you finally gotten yourself a boyfriend?"

Tino's mouth fell open at this comment. "_B-boyfriend_? No! No, he's not my..." He managed to sputter before trailing off pathetically, too embarrassed to say anything.

Sigurd rolled his eyes again. "Sorry to assume. No harm meant." He didn't look very sorry. "We can give you a ride if you like."

The offer that had sounded so creepy coming from Ivan only minutes earlier sounded like heaven on earth when Sigurd said it. "Really?" Tino asked.

"Of course. Hop in." Sigurd gestured to the backseat.

Erik leaned back in his seat and shifted some bags as Tino opened the door and settled in to the convertible's luxurious leather upholstery.

"Thank you!"

"No problem." Sigurd said as they sped off toward the airport.

oooooo

Berwald stood in the main lobby of the airport, relishing the air conditioned coolness. His plane was too small and old to have any sort of cooling system for the cockpit, and the flight through the summer heat and glaring sun had been close to hellish. He pushed his glasses up his nose as he peered around the crowded foyer, watching for the blond hair and animated smile that had become so familiar in the preceding months.

He would never say it out loud, and it rarely showed on his face, but Berwald enjoyed his visits to the city more than any other time of the month. With pleasant company and different food, they were a welcome relief from the unbroken monotony of his cabin. It amazed him that only a couple of months earlier every fiber of his being would have rejected the idea of going into civilisation of his own free will, but now, with Tino and his gentle smiles and quiet, agreeable companionship, Berwald found himself waiting in impatient anticipation for his monthly supply runs.

His train of thought was interrupted by the very person he had just been thinking of, as Tino came pushing through the milling crowd.

"Hello there, Berwald. I'm so sorry I'm late, I got held up. How was your flight?"

"Nh. Hot. How're ya?"

Tino smiled, though to Berwald it seemed a bit uncertain. "I'm doing alright. And yourself?"

"M'well."

"I'm glad. Shall we?" Tino mock bowed as he gestured towards the exit.

Berwald followed the little man across the lobby and out into the blazing heat. Tino wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"It's times like this I really wish I had a car. I can hail a taxi if you don't want to walk back in all this heat." He said.

"Don't mind walkin'. Not t' far."

For a while they walked in silence, the humid air too oppressive to allow for any sort of conversation. After a while, however, Tino started to chat a bit, and for the next twenty minutes or so they talked in a casual, somewhat stilted manner.

Though they had known each other several months by now, Berwald still felt slightly awkward around Tino. He was still not quite used to having some one he could truly call a friend, and he was certainly not used to being around so many other people as often as he now was. It unsettled him, made him unsure of how to act around the man. The fact that Berwald found said man to be extremely attractive did not help either, and served to further confound him in any sort of social situation with Tino. He usually just listened and looked, not trusting his tongue to produce any sort of syllables that made sense.

As they walked on, Tino began to show increasing signs of uneasiness, and even fear. At first Berwald was perplexed. Why was he acting so scared? Hadn't the fear passed from their friendship by now? For a moment, Berwald felt discouraged, but it soon became evident that he was not the cause of Tino's anxiety.

Instead of cringing away from Berwald's towering form, he was furtively looking over his shoulder every couple of seconds, and his speech had become nervous and distracted. His curiosity piqued, Berwald looked back the way they had come, but he saw nothing to explain Tino's odd behaviour. That was until he noticed the red SUV, driving slowly and just far away enough to not look _too_ suspicious. He could not see the driver through the black-tinted windows, but he could very easily guess who it was.

"T'no." He said, an idea popping into his head.

Tino jumped at the sound of Berwald's voice. "Y-yes?"

"W's thinkin' w'should get somethin' t'eat." He replied, nodding his head towards the coffee shop they happened to be passing.

"You're hungry already, Berwald? Its only four thir- oh!" Realization dawned as Berwald glanced meaningfully back at the advancing car behind them. "That sounds lovely." He said, a grateful smile lighting up his face.

Together they ducked into the little shop. Through the display window in the front of the store, Berwald watched the SUV slow as it reached the sidewalk in front of the café. It did not stop completely, however, and after a moment it drove away. Berwald heard Tino sigh in relief behind him, but he himself remained tense. He was quite sure Ivan would not give up trying to follow them, and was probably only waiting for them to leave the building to start again. He scanned the coffee shop for an alternate exit and immediately confirmed that there was an accessible back door. It was only then that he allowed himself to relax and join Tino in line to order. He might as well have some coffee while they were there.

They ordered- both opting for an iced beverage, considering the heat- and sat down at a table as far away as possible from the front windows. Tino seemed calmer as he sipped at his iced mocha, though his worried eyes still wandered to the front of the shop every five minutes. Berwald, feeling awkward and inadequate to the task, attempted to get conversation started.

"S'why 's he followin' ya?"

Tino sighed and eyed Berwald warily over his coffee cup. "I can't really tell you without breaking confidentiality..."

"Don't have t'tell m'bout _him_. Just want t'know 'f I c'n help ya."

The other man smiled. "That's very sweet of you, Berwald, but I think the only thing you could do at this point is to call the police, and I'd rather you not do that."

Berwald just raised an eyebrow. After a moment Tino sighed again, more in exasperation than weariness this time. "Okay, fine. I'll tell you a little bit. But _please _don't tell anyone I did. It could cost me my job."

"Mm."

Tino interpreted Berwald's grunt as something along the lines of "I promise I won't" and began to tell his story. "Ivan was a patient of mine a few years ago, during my time with an institution many miles north of here. Come to think of it, the night I first met you I was driving down the last of my stuff from storage." Tino took a sip of his coffee and continued. "Anyway... he was much worse back then. I tried to help him, but his condition was far beyond my abilities to treat, so he got sent on to other, better therapists. But by that time he was.. uh... well..." Tino paused, suddenly uncomfortable. "Kinda... obsessed with me. I don't think he actually, y'know, _loved _me... it was just a part of his problems. He visited my office a lot, sometimes while I was treating other patients. That and several other things got to be too much after a while, and I left the hospital and moved down here about two years ago. It was hard, but it got rid of Ivan, so I was happy."

He paused again, breathing deeply and obviously distressed. Berwald had the urge to pat the hand Tino was resting on the table, but resisted.

"So, about six months after I moved here they released Ivan. I heard through my friend at the practise, but I didn't really think he'd follow me down here. And to his credit, he didn't. Well, not really. His two sisters live on the other side of town, and they offered to take care of him. So he came to the city. Eventually he found my apartment and..." Tino trailed off and Berwald nodded.

"Stalked ya."

"That's the gist of it, yes."

"S'why haven't y'called t'police?"

Tino rolled his eyes in a self-effacing fashion. "Because I'm an idiot? It sounds crazy, but... I do feel like I can help him still. He... needs it. He's not a bad person." Berwald had serious doubts about that. "He... he just needs a friend. Kind of like you in that respect." Tino smiled affectionately at Berwald, who was attempting to hide the fact that he had just inhaled an ice cube. After a moment of covert choking, Berwald recovered his ability to breathe and stared, dazed, at the little Finn on the opposite side of the table. Tino only laughed and quickly changed the subject. Talking about Ivan so much was ruining his mood.

"That reminds me... I have two things for you. First..." Tino ducked down and rummaged through his bag for a moment before resurfacing with a small, rectangular package. "I know it's a bit early, but I'm not going to see you on the sixth, so... happy birthday!" He handed the present to Berwald.

He took it, turning it in his hands but not opening it. "How'd y' know m'birthday? N'ver told ya..."

There was a mischievous glint in Tino's eyes. "Oh, I have my sources..." He chuckled, watching Berwald closely scrutinizing the package. "You can open it, you know."

Berwald carefully tore the tape off the bottom of the package and out fell a small, worn book bristling with sticky notes. He picked it up and examined it. There was no title.

"You told me on your last visit that you liked my cooking," Tino said, blushing at the remembered compliment. "This is the cookbook I use. Its mostly in Finnish, but I did my best to translate it. I have most of the recipes memorized, so I don't really need it anymore..." He said, fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt.

Berwald flipped through the pages of the book. Every one of them was full not only of the original Finnish, but Tino's neat, slanting handwriting: painstaking translation and improvement of the original recipes. He was taken aback by the effort Tino must have put into the present as well as touched and flustered by its personal nature. Formulating a sentence seemed impossible with his tongue so tied by gratitude, but he managed to get out a mumbled thanks all the same.

Tino grinned at Berwald's acceptance of the gift, though he still looked nervous. "You're welcome! Do you like it?"

"'Course. Haven't gotten a pres'nt in a long time."

The other man looked relieved. "Oh, I'm so glad!"

"Hn. What w's t'other thing?"

"Oh! Right! Not a present, but an invitation. I throw a party every year on juhann- oh, sorry, Midsummer's night. All my friends usually come. I know that you're not really comfortable with lots of people around, but.. I thought I'd ask you all the same. I'd love to have you there." He said, smiling.

Berwald pondered for a moment. He certainly was not comfortable with large groups of people- it was strange and difficult enough trying to interact with just Tino- but... the other man looked so hopeful, staring at him from across the table like that. It was obvious that he would very much like Berwald to be there, even if he didn't talk much, as he was likely to do. He nodded curtly.

Tino bounced in his seat and clapped his hands together. "Wonderful! Okay, so..." He began to jabber on about all the details and planning for the party. Halfway through Tino's happy rant they stood and left the café from the back door and continued to walk down the road. Both of them were too occupied by the conversation to notice the large red SUV parked in an alleyway. Neither did they notice when, after they passed, it turned out onto the road and stealthily followed them all the way back to the apartment.

oooooo

The night of the twenty first was perfect for a party. It was warm in the city, much warmer than the fields and woods Berwald had come from, but not terribly so. A comfortable atmosphere pervaded, imbuing everything with a cheerful glow. Many people were out and about, jostling him as he walked through the streets on his way to Tino's, alcohol securely tucked under one arm.

Frankly, Berwald was proud of himself when he managed to make his way to Tino's apartment building with no wrong turns or help of any kind. He mounted the stairs slowly, his anxiety increasing with every step. The past few months had rewritten every rule Berwald had ever made for himself, had pushed his boundaries far beyond where he thought they could ever be, but despite this he still felt nervous about being in such close quarters with so many people. Nervous that he'd stand out, nervous that he'd blend in.

All anxieties were momentarily dispelled, however, when Tino opened the door.

"Berwald! Hi! Come in! You're one of the first!" Tino smiled and led him in, introducing him to the few other people assembled. "This is Sigurd, a coworker and friend, and Eirik, his secretary. You know Eduard already, and this is..."

The names faded from Berwald's memory almost as soon as they were given. He was much too busy watching Tino. His hair was immaculate, his face slightly tanned and full of joy, but it was the outfit that was causing Berwald to gawk like an idiot. He had never thought a simple button-down shirt and nice fitting jeans could be so sexy, but they were on Tino. He found himself suddenly wishing that he had dressed with more care, a thought so uncharacteristic and out of place that for a moment he thought he was going crazy. It took him a good minute to realize that Tino was still speaking to him.

"...and you can put that lovely bottle right here on this table. Berwald? Are you okay?"

"Hn? Oh. M'fine."

"Alright then. Oh look, more guests! Welcome!" Tino walked over to greet the couple that had just walked in, leaving a very flustered Berwald in his wake.

oooooo

As the party got under way, Berwald retreated further and further into the corner of the living room. As predicted, the room was loud, crowded, and full of people he did not know. To his ears and mind, so used to solitude and silence, it was a bit overwhelming.

And so for at least an hour Berwald skulked in his corner, nursing his drink and watching the party commence. Some of the faces Berwald recognized. Eduard was there, minus his jumpy brother, and so was (he noticed with some discomfort) the bubbly nurse from the hospital, accompanied by a tall, aristocratic looking man. The rest, however, were not familiar to him, and he had no real desire to speak to any of them. There was only one person in the room that commanded his attention, and he was occupied.

Tino was flitting about the room, talking and laughing and generally being a good host. Snippets of conversation floated over to where Berwald stood, and he couldn't help but smile as Tino argued with a young American over whose country was more heroic ("Are you kidding, Alfred? Simo Häyhä was _way _more badass than G.I. Joe! How many Russians have you killed lately, and not just in Call of Duty 4? See? Badass.").

And then there was the way he skipped across the room in time to the music as he went to get more food, or the way his smile, so kind and carefree and full of humour, came so easily to his face. Or the way his laugh rang out through the happy buzz of conversation filling the room, as bright and clear as a bell. Hidden in his corner, Berwald could not help but stare at Tino, rare colour staining his cheeks and a sensation bubbling in his stomach that he knew had nothing to do with the small amount of alcohol he had consumed.

Somehow, the way Tino moved through the crowd reminded him of the few Midsummer's night celebrations he had attended with his parents back in Sweden. The meadow in the municipal park had always been full of the sound of folk music, the swirling colours of traditional dress, and the smell of fresh spring flowers, wrapped around the maypole or woven into the braids of the local girls. The fragrant petals falling from the headdresses had always reminded Berwald of snow, but now it seemed to him that Tino's eyes, so colourful and full of warmth, were a much better analogy. Unbidden, an image of Tino's face surrounded by a wreath of delicate bluebells formed in his mind. He felt his face heat up as his imagination continued.

Soon his dreamworld Tino was not only decked out from head to toe in full traditional regalia, but he was dancing as well, pulling Berwald into the fray of people and laughing. His petite hands wrapped around Berwald's larger, ungainly ones. His hair flying with his movement like a pale golden banner. His eyes twinkling with laughter and tenderness. Then the image was gone as soon as it had come, and Berwald was left flushed and befuddled, standing in the corner of Tino's living room, a deep ache of loneliness and longing coursing through his chest.

As the party continued, Berwald again wondered if he was going crazy, wanting someone as badly as he wanted Tino.

oooooo

Meanwhile, Tino was doing his best to keep his large group of friends happy. For the most part he was highly successful, and cheerful conversation and laughter filled the room. As he walked back to the refreshments table to get himself another cup of punch, he glanced over to the corner for perhaps the hundredth time that evening. Berwald was still standing there, scowl full throttle and mouth firmly closed. Tino sighed. He had predicted reclusiveness on Berwald's part, but honestly, not talking to anyone the entire time? That was a bit much. Worry evident on his brow, he began to make his way over to his antisocial friend. Before he could get too far, however, he was intercepted by Feliks, who, to his dismay, looked like he was on a mission. The sardonic green eyes were sparkling and his glossed lips were curled into an impish grin.

"So, Tino, you like, got yourself a totally hot boyfriend over there." Feliks chirped, nodding his head towards Berwald, whose attention was fortunately directed elsewhere.

Tino turned a marvelous shade of crimson at the suggestion. "Why does everybody keep _saying_ that? He's not my boyfriend, Feliks!"

Feliks only giggled at his reaction. "Yeah right, Tino. Everyone can totally tell he has the hots for you."

Tino's face grew, if possible, even redder and he gaped at his friend, who completely ignored the reaction and began to minutely examine his cuticles.

"And he's been staring at you, like, all night. Haven't you noticed? Totally smitten."

"No he hasn't! I haven't seen him looking at me at all!"

"Oh, he only looks when you're not ogling _him_ like a lovesick teenager. See? He's, like, totally doing it right now."

Tino was too busy spluttering indignantly to argue with Feliks, so he instead glanced back in Berwald's direction. As soon as he had, however, he regretted it. Berwald's eyes, those unreadable, penetrating eyes, were indeed trained upon him, and the expression in them was so intense that his first instinct was to look away, but he found that he could not.

It was as if fires had been lit behind walls of ice. Or like sapphires glowing through the darkness, or the ocean, deep and cold, but passionate and wild as... fire... had he already used that metaphor? Tino found his breath hitching in his chest as he gazed into those eyes.

His attention was only ripped away when he heard gleeful cackling emitting from the Pole to his left.

"Like, omigod, Tino!" Feliks gasped between hoots of laughter. "You totally just zoned out for a second there. You are _so _in love with him!"

"I am not!" Tino yelped. But Feliks only waved this objection aside and yammered on in a loud voice- Tino was sure Berwald could hear him- about their fabulous wedding and how cute their kids would be. Meanwhile, the Finn was thinking about the most satisfying way to murder his tactless friend in cold blood. He was imagining a particularly gruesome scenario involving pinking shears when Toris, Feliks's overworked, underappreciated boyfriend, came to save him from more teasing.

"Feliks," he goaded, gently tugging his boyfriends arm "I think you should stop bothering Tino now. Give the other guests a chance to talk with their host."

"Psh, whatever, Liet. I'll totally bother him if I want to."

Toris looked discouraged, but continued to try to pull his partner away from his poor friend. But as if rooted to the spot by his determination to completely humiliate Tino in front of everyone he knew, Feliks didn't budge and inch.

"Tino, hon, you need to get that stick out of your ass an jump him alr- hey! Isn't that, like, that creepy stalker guy talking to your mancandy over there?"

"What?" Tino turned to look at the Swede again. The sight that greeted him made his heart plummet to his shoes. Ivan was standing next to Berwald, smiling and waving in his direction.

oooooo

While Tino had been plotting his friend's demise, Berwald had been recovering from the intense, wordless exchange that had just occured between them. He had not been fast enough in averting his gaze when Tino had glanced in his direction, and had been caught in the act of staring. What was even more mortifying was the fact that he hadn't been able to look away afterwards, even if he'd wanted to.

Tino was just so... beautiful. The image of that round, smiling face surrounded by a wreath of flowers rose back into Berwald's consciousness. He clenched his fists at his sides, blushing furiously. No! No no no. No fantasizing! If he thought about that he didn't know if the could resist the urge to sweep Tino off his feet and...

Berwald was in the act of running a hand through his hair in vexation when he heard a high, bubbling laugh beside him.

"I think you like my little Tinushka, da?"

Berwald turned to the heavily-accented voice. The man standing there was his height, but his thick limbs and ungainly way of carrying himself made him seem much taller. His face was soft and round, his hair almost the same shade as Tino's. The amethyst eyes set deep in his face were also unsettlingly close in colour to the Finn's, but they lacked the all the kindness and warmth that made Tino's so beautiful. The smile spreading across the Russian's face was meant to be friendly, but it was instead ghoulish, haunted. Never had Berwald seen a face so devoid of sanity. He repressed a shudder. So this was Ivan.

"Wh't are y'doin' here?"

"Oh! He knows me then. You are... Berwald, da?"

Berwald did not reply, troubled by the fact that he knew his name. Ivan giggled again, almost girlishly. His voice did not match his appearance.

"Berwald is Swedish from the accent and name. It is no surprise, then, that Tino likes you. He likes his men northern and tall, like you and me."

As much as he wanted to ignore the Russian's words, preferably as he was physically ejecting him from Tino's apartment, Berwald could not miss the implications of that sentence. The way Ivan had emphasized "likes his men" was much too obvious for it to be missed, and that meant that maybe, just maybe, Berwald's fantasies about his friend were not as impossible as he had previously thought.

"Yes, yes... Berwald likes Tino very much." There was a hint of bitterness in that shrill voice now. "But Tino is Vanka's. All Vanka's."

Deeply disturbed now, Berwald attempted to edge away from his obviously crazy conversational partner. Where was his cellphone? At this point he didn't care what Tino had said about not calling the police. He hadn't gotten very far, however, before Ivan's hand shot out and grabbed his arm. Before he could wrench himself from the vice-like grip and perhaps punch the Russian in the jaw, he felt cold lips tickling his ear.

"Berwald cannot take Tinushka away from Vanka." Ivan whispered viciously. "Or Vanka will bring his pipe next time, da?"

Not resisting his violent urges any longer, Berwald roughly pushed Ivan off him and stepped back. "Y'll leave T'no 'lone."

"Hmmm... I do not think so. But maybe we should ask him. He is looking this way."

Berwald could hear Tino's startled gasp from across the room when he saw Ivan, could see the fear in his eyes. Quickly, the little man pushed through the crowded room over to where he and Ivan stood.

"Ivan!" He said, not even attempting to be friendly. Berwald could tell that he had finally had enough. "What the _fuck _are you doing here?"

That unsettling smile spread wide. "Hello my little _zaichik_! I just wanted to come visit you at your party. Why wasn't I invited, Tino? Don't you like me anymore?"

"You _know perfectly well _why you weren't invited!"

Ivan pouted. "Why does Tinushka always get so mad at me?"

"Ivan, if you don't get the hell out my apartment this second, I'm going to call the police!" Tino yelled. By this time the fight had attracted the attention of everyone in the room. The apartment was silent save for Tino's ragged breathing and Ivan's sniffing.

Unshed tears were shining in Ivan's eyes now, and he sniffled and gulped between each word. "But I thought Tinushka and Vanka were friends."

"Ivan..." Tino groaned. "Just... just leave."

At those words the Russian burst into tears and ran from the room. For a moment no one spoke or even moved, too shocked by the confrontation. Then the obnoxious American piped up.

"Jeez, Tino... I take back what I said earlier. You're _way _more badass than me."

It was an insensitive comment to say the least, and quite a lame joke, but despite all that it still managed to lighten the atmosphere, and after a small amount of time passed, conversation started back up. It was more subdued than it had been, however, and before long people began to trickle out one by one.

Recovered from his confrontation with Ivan (or at least doing a very good job of covering up his distress), Tino said goodbye to every one of them at the door. When Sigurd and Erik passed him on their way out, words of comfort and support were whispered, and Tino smiled. Others were less helpful, passing without a word other than "thanks". The worst of all was Feliks, who said nothing, but glanced in a highly suggestive manner at Berwald-who was cleaning food and cups from the floor- and grinned salaciously, wiggling his eyebrows for good measure as he was literally dragged out the door by a fuming Toris.

oooooo

Finally, at long last, every guest but Berwald had left. Exhausted and unhappy, Tino sat down on the his couch and buried his head in his hands. Now that all his friends were gone, he had no reason to hide his misery, and he let the tears he had been holding back leek from the corners of his eyes.

Too preoccupied by his woes, Tino did not notice Berwald enter the living room until a heavy weight sat down beside him on the sofa and a warm hand began to stroke his back.

"Y'okay?"

Tino sniffed into his hands. Unable to speak through his tears, he shook his head.

" 'f y'want t'talk 'bout it..."

And at those awkward words of concern, Tino's self-control cracked.

"Oh god, Berwald! I made him cry!" He wailed, tears streaming down his face. "I made him _cry_! I've never made anyone cry like that, ever! He's going to k-kill himself, or me, or _someone_! I shouldn't have yelled at him, but... I-I was just so angry, and... " He trailed off, a fresh wave of tears overtaking him.

"Y'didn' d'anythin' wrong, s'far s' I can tell."

Tino only sobbed harder into his hands. "I... I want to help him, but... I don't think I know how..." He bawled, frustration twisting his words. "Its my job, I should be able to do _something..."_

Berwald sat on the couch, not sure what to say or do to to comfort Tino, who continued to cry unabated into his hands. He patted the smaller man's shaking back until finally, after many minutes, shuddering breaths replaced the sobs. Tino wiped the tears from his swollen eyes with his shirtsleeve and reached for a box of tissues on the coffee table.

"I'm so sorry you had to see that Berwald, I didn't mean for it to happen..." he said miserably, dabbing at his running nose with a kleenex.

Berwald shrugged, removing his hand from Tino's back as he did so. "T'is Ivan should be doin' th' ap'logizin', not you."

For the first time in a long while, Tino smiled. It was an unsure, tearstained smile, but a smile none the less. "I'm glad you're here, at least." His face fell again and he looked down at the floor. "I don't know what's going to happen now. He might come back or he might never come back. I'm not sure which I don't want more..." He was starting to look gloomy again, wringing his hands.

Berwald watched him in his anxiety. Oh, how we wanted to wipe every tear from that perfect face. But this was no time to be thinking of that. Tino needed comfort and a friend, not someone making sexual advances like Ivan. Unfortunately the only solution his addled brain cold come up with was still much more embarrassing and challenging than he would have liked. But Tino's breath was starting to sound tearful again, and Berwald couldn't let Tino cry anymore.

The mumble that escaped his mouth on trying to suggest said solution, however, was far from understandable, and Tino looked up at him in confusion. Charming confusion.

"I couldn't quite hear that, Berwald... uh... w-what did you say?"

Berwald coughed and focused his vision on a truly _fascinating_ little lamp in the corner, as far as possible from Tino's perplexed eyes.

" Y'... y'need a hug." He finally murmured, his ears burning. He lifted his arms from his sides slightly as a sort of awkward invitation. An invitation Tino took after a brief hesitation.

As soon as Tino's slender arms settled timidly around his torso, Berwald knew that offering to hug him had been a bad idea. The little man's delicate body was so _warm_ against his chest, and his hair, which was just brushing Berwald's nose, smelled so good. And those hands, resting gently on the taught muscles of his back as they clutched at the fabric of his shirt... A jolt of nerves and arousal traveled up his spine as he held the other man, and it was taking all his self control to restrain himself from pulling Tino's face up to his and kissing the living daylights out of him, or something equally as stupid.

He tightened his grip around Tino's shoulders and breathed a shaky sigh into the pale strands of hair. Tino responded by humming happily into Berwald's chest and strengthening his own hold, unknowingly making Berwald's cheeks flare up in the hottest blush he had ever known.

They sat like that in the living room, the whole apartment silent save for the ticking of the clock on the shelf and the muffled, ever present noises of the city. After a while, Tino released a tremulous breath and pulled away from the embrace. Berwald could have sworn he had felt damp tears soaking through his shirt while Tino rested his head there, but now the lavender eyes were dry and smiling as Tino looked into his face.

"Thank you. I... I really needed that."

Still very red, the Swede looked away. "Yer w'lcome."

Tino sighed and stood, glancing at the clock. "Oh, it got late! You'll still be able to make it home now, won't you?"

Berwald followed his gaze to the clock in the corner. It was far past midnight. "T'hanger's locked b'now."

"Shit... I'm sorry, Berwald."

"S'okay. C'n find a hotel."

"Oh, no, don't go to all that trouble! You can stay here for the night." Tino offered, blushing madly at the thought of what Feliks would say if he ever found out. "The couch folds out. And anyway, its my fault you're stuck here."

After some consideration, in which the thought that sleeping only doors down from the object of his affection was not a very good idea was duly noted, Berwald nodded.

Several minutes of bustling followed in which Tino and Berwald attempted to open the couch into a cot. This effort failed, however, when it was discovered the hinges had rusted together sometime in the eighties, so instead Tino collected blankets and pillows to make his guest as comfortable as possible on the couch cushions. After another considerable span of time, a passable bed was constructed, though Berwald was still unable to stretch out his legs fully without his feet hanging over the arm of the sofa. By the time he was finished, Tino was absolutely exhausted, and in no mood to finish cleaning the debris left from the party.

"It think I'm just going to go to bed." He said, his voice weary. "Do you need anything else?"

"M'fine. S'warm."

Tino smiled. "Good. Sleep well, then. And...um... thank you again."

"Hn. G'night."

The Finn left the room, switching off the lights as he did. Berwald was left in darkness, wrapped in warm blankets that smelled of Tino.

A/N: I have listened to this Enya album about five billion times today. I'm going to bed.

But before I succumb to the heady temptations of Morpheus, some notes.

1. When Tino is inviting Berwald to his party, the word he stops saying is _juhannus, _the Finnish word for Midsummer, or the solstice. At least that's what Wikipedia says. Any Finns reading this, if I got anything wrong, then please tell me! It would be embarrassing (though amusing) if that is actually a horrible swear word or something.

2. In both Sweden and Finland, Midsummer's night was traditionally supposed to be one of the most magical times of the year, and it was believed that it was a time especially propitious for love and attraction.

3. "Tinushka" Yeeeeaaah. I wanted Ivan to use some sort of cute little nickname that Tino would want to punch him in the face for. I came up with that. I think it's kind of stupid, but there you have it. I only have to use it one or two more times. Also, "zaichik"= "bunny" in Russian, because Ivan is just that creepy.

4. I don't actually think killing Russians is badass, far from it. But it seemed like something Tino would say. If you haven't heard of Simo Häyhä (who needs an award for how difficult it is for an English speaking moron like me to pronounce his name correctly) then I suggest you look him up. I don't believe in war, but I do believe in standing for your people and your country, and for that he has my highest respect.

5. Drawings! I'm half way through a painting for Chapter 2. A link will be posted with the next chapter.

6. "T'hanger's locked" is a bad excuse, Berwald. You're not fooling anyone.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N**: Look! An update! I'm alive! Please don't kill me! D:

Yet again, I am extremely sorry for the enormous delay. I worked on this as much as I could, but the last two months have been both busy and incredible, and I rarely had time to type.

I hope this is up to your expectations, and thank you, thank you, thank you for reading and putting up with must be a frustrating update schedule! You have no idea how much it means to me that so many people have read, reviewed, and enjoyed this.

Anyway, I'm babbling again. Here's your chapter!

**Disclaimer and Warning**: Don't own the characters and there is swearing.

oooooo

Tino only just managed to edge into the lobby, heavy bags in hand, before the door snapped shut behind him. One barrier beaten. And now for the three flights of stairs and long stretch of hallway before he could finally drop his burden on his entry hall floor.

He huffed and puffed as he mounted the first steps. It had been a long, difficult day full of frustrating business and last-minute preparation, and he was thoroughly exhausted. He could not wait to get out of this godawful building.

Somehow, he managed to get up every stair without loosing any of his shopping or collapsing, but as he turned the corner to walk down the hall he was met with a truly bizarre sight.

"Hey Francis, Gilbert... uh... what are you doing?"

His neighbors looked up from their drinks (wine and beer, from the looks of it), surprised. Gilbert was the first to speak. "Antonio's got Lovino over again. He kicked us out. Just awesome." He took a generous swig of his beer. Tino nodded sympathetically. He himself had been kept up many nights by Antonio's rambunctious attentions to his boyfriend.

"And why not have a little pique-nique while we are here?" Francis piped up, sipping his own drink much more daintily than his room mate. "Would you like to join us, mon ami? There is cheese, bread..."

"Thank you, but I have a lot of things I need to do this evening."

Francis only looked slightly upset by the refusal. "It is true then, that you are moving away tomorrow."

Tino nodded. "Yeah. The rent hike is just too much for my paycheck. My friend Eduard found me a very nice place out in the suburbs, though. I'll be taking the train in to work."

Gilbert said something like "Awesome" between gulps of beer and Francis smiled. "We will miss you, Tino."

"I'll visit. Especially if you still plan on throwing one of your excellent Christmas parties this year. I would crash it if you didn't invite me."

"Indeed we will."

Tino grinned at his neighbors before turning to finish the journey to his door. He stopped immediately upon reaching it, however, his heart sinking. There was a sunflower wedged between the doorknob and the wall. He had been expecting it, of course- they had been appearing quite regularly for the past four months- but he always hoped that they wouldn't be there when he got home. He set down his grocery bags on the floor and plucked the offending object from the door, angrily snapping it in half across his knee. As he examined his handiwork, a small scrap of paper fluttered from the mass of petals. Ivan always left notes. Tino picked it up and read it.

_I miss Tinushka's pretty face._

Growling, he tore the note up too before walking back along the hall to Francis and Gilbert, who were just beginning to dig in to the cheese.

"Hey... did either of you see someone stop by my apartment earlier?" He held up the flower as evidence.

The Frenchman's face lit up immediately. "Ohoho, a secret admirer!"

Gilbert punched him in the arm. "Shut up, Francis." He turned his burgundy eyes to Tino. "Tall guy? Scary looking?"

Tino gulped and nodded.

"Yeah. He had a key. Let himself in about half an hour ago."

_Fuck..._ _how did he get a key?_

Meanwhile, Francis was scoffing at Gilbert's flippant description of Tino's visitor. "He was not scary looking, you _espèce de carotte_, he was sculpted by gods! Rugged, attractive, highly mysterious. Aaaah, a paragon among men!"

Gilbert just rolled his eyes. "You need to get laid more, dude."

"Oh? And when was the last time you even talked to that pretty little doctor you like so much?"

Sensing he no longer had their attention as his neighbors began to bicker, Tino edged away and went back to stand in front of his door, completely divided as to what to do. On one hand, it seemed pretty clear that Ivan was waiting for him on the other side. That was enough to make him want to run as far away as possible as fast as he could. On the other hand, he knew he'd have to face the imbalanced Russian eventually. He might as well get it over with now. Tomorrow he would be gone, and Ivan couldn't possibly know where. He'd be out of his life forever, with any luck. Acting much braver than he felt, Tino hoisted his grocery bags from the floor and opened the door to his apartment.

There was no one in the foyer. Tino set the bags down on the hallway table. Where was he? Tiptoeing into the living room, he discovered there was no one there either. Everything was as he had left it that morning on his way to work. Confused, he was about to continue on to his bedroom when he heard footsteps in the kitchen.

Heart beating in his throat, he crept across the hall, clutching the broken sunflower in his hands like a sword. He was just easing the door open when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"AUUUGH!" He whipped around, brandishing the flower in a feeble attempt to protect himself from Ivan's sinister smile and invasive hands. But instead of the pale eyes and sandy hair he was expecting he was greeted by startled aquamarine and golden yellow.

"T'no?"

"Berwald! Oh my god, you scared me!"

"M'sorry. Y'alright?"

Tino felt like such an idiot. How could he have forgotten about giving Berwald his extra key, just in case? He'd even given him permission to let himself in that morning over the phone. "Y-yes, I'm fine. I'm so sorry for yelling so loud. I was expecting... someone else."

Berwald's troubled eyes alighted on the sunflower still grasped in Tino's shaking hands. He looked up, concerned. "Iv'n?"

"Yeah."

"Hasn't been troublin' ya, has he?"

"Not really. Only the flowers."

Berwald reached out a hand and took one of the petals between his fingers, examining it closely. Tino watched him in his study. The evening sun from the skylight was lighting up the side of his face, throwing deep shadows over his eyes and glinting on his glasses. Suddenly realizing exactly how close they were standing, Tino laughed nervously and backed away. It was only then that he noticed what Berwald was holding in his hand.

"Uh... why do you have my broom?"

"Hm? Oh. Was makin' food. Spilled t'flour." Berwald stepped back also and walked into the kitchen.

Tino trailed behind him, curious. "Food?"

"Mm."

Berwald had apparently been working for quite some time, judging by the delicious smell that overtook him as soon as he opened the kitchen door. Pots and pans were spread out across the counter tops, and, to Tino's utmost delight, the little Finnish cookbook was lying open near the sink.

"Oh! What are you making?"

"Kl'mppis'ppa"

Tino couldn't stop smiling. "You're cheating. Klimppisoppa almost as Swedish as it is Finnish."

Berwald only smiled slightly in response and continued to stir the soup on the stove top.

"Do you need any help?"

"Nh. Sit. Y've been workin' all day."

Tino couldn't really argue with that, so he obediently sat (but not before throwing Ivan's gift into the trash with a satisfying clunk) and watched Berwald work. Aside from his accident with the flour, which had already been swept away, he was surprisingly clean and quick. Every counter was scrubbed after it was dirtied and all the used utensils and pots were stacked into neat piles in the sink and set to soak. His concentration, likewise, was exacting. He barely looked up from his task. It reminded Tino of the time, so long ago now, that he had watched him tinkering with one of his computers.

It occured to him also, as he sat there and watched the other man move around the kitchen, that it would be absolutely wonderful if it was like this all the time, and not just once or twice a month. None if his ex-boyfriends had ever been interested in cooking. They were too busy working or partying to think about such domestic tasks, and usually left them for Tino to sort out. Berwald, though, seemed perfectly content to putter about the kitchen scrubbing surfaces and straightening plates on the shelves. Tino found it very endearing.

_He would be a perfect husband... _He thought, before burying his face in his hands in embarrassment. _Oh god, did I really just think that? I'm so glad Feliks isn't here, he would have gone berserk..._

But no thoughts of Feliks or his hypothetical glee could stop him from musing further. Berwald was now carefully brushing crumbs from the cookbook before he closed it and tucked it away in his bag. How could he have ever been so afraid of such a kind and considerate man? He was so different from Ivan. So gentle and sweet and cute... Tino blushed again, Francis's words from earlier drifting back into his mind.

Yes, Berwald was indeed a paragon among men.

oooooo

Berwald woke on the couch the next morning surrounded by half packed boxes and the smell of bacon. In the kitchen Tino was humming to himself, the clatter of the frying pan and the sizzle of butter promising a hearty breakfast.

Rubbing a hand across his sleepy eyes, Berwald squinted into the morning light streaming through the apartment windows and began to search for his glasses. As he was groping around the surface of the coffee table, Tino entered the room.

"Oh, you're awake already!"

"'Mm." Was the perfunctory reply as he continued to fumble with various objects he could not identify with his blurry vision.

Tino smiled and picked up Berwald's glasses from the side table where they had been left the night before. He hesitated for a moment before kneeling next to him on the floor and sliding the glasses onto the long, thin nose. Startled by the sudden clarity and Tino's closeness, Berwald adjusted the glasses and looked up at the other man, who had by that time sat up and was fidgeting nervously under the intense stare.

"I... uh... I'd like to thank you again for offering to help me with moving. It will make a big difference."

"Hn. S'nothin'."

Tino sighed at Berwald's perpetual denial of credit, but he was still smiling.

"Well, thank you all the same. Breakfast will be ready in a couple minutes, if you're hungry."

Berwald watched Tino exit the room. It had been four long months since the Midsummer party, but the ache that had lodged itself in his heart then had not diminished. Everything about Tino fascinated and attracted him, from his eyes to his feet to his inexhaustible kindness and humour. If it weren't for the turmoil of Tino's life and the accursed shyness and doubt that plagued him every time he tried to say something to the Finn, he would have taken drastic action and confessed weeks ago.

Berwald stood, cracking the bones in his back and shoulders as he stretched. Now was not the time to be thinking about such things, he scolded himself. If he did, he knew he wouldn't be able to hold his calm façade together for much longer. Sighing, he headed over to the bag resting on the windowsill and pulled out a clean t-shirt.

oooooo

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Berwald, Tino was peeking around the doorframe of the living room. He watched as Berwald sat on the floor for several seconds, fresh sunlight messed in his flaxen hair and gleaming in those inscrutable eyes. As attractive as he found the sight, however, it was nothing in comparison to when the Swede stood stretched his long arms behind his head. Tino nearly hyperventilated.

_Oh, wow. Francis was totally right about the whole 'sculpted by gods' thing... I wish he hadn't put on his- oh, perkele, that's the bacon burning!_

He rushed into the kitchen to save breakfast, blushing all the while at his blatant ogling. For the second time in twenty-four hours, he thanked the higher powers that Feliks had not been there to witness such immaturity.

And yet... Berwald was very attractive after all. His face was so handsome in the morning light, especially without his glasses. And his chest and back were so well toned and muscular... was it really so immature to admire such a body? He was only looking after all, it wasn't like he was going to do anythi-

"Augh! The toast!"

Tino scrambled to unplug the toaster, which was belching great clouds of black smoke into the air.

oooooo

Breakfast was a decidedly crispy affair. Berwald scraped butter onto his lump of charcoal (or was it supposed to be toast?) as Tino obsessively outlined their schedule for the day, including even the tiniest details in their itinerary. Berwald only half-listened as the Finn told him about the cross-referenced boxes of books and timing of every green light from the city to the suburbs, opting instead to bask in the melody of Tino's words and smile at the way he ticked things off his fingers as he related them. They had just finished the last of the charred bacon when the doorbell rang.

Tino looked up, confused. "That couldn't possibly be Alfred... he's never early..."

He wiped the grease from his fingers on a napkin and went to answer the door. Lovino, Antonio's boyfriend, was standing there looking cranky and carrying at least two dozen enormous sunflowers. Tino checked at the sight of the flowers and looked at Lovino, completely nonplussed.

"Uh..."

Lovino shoved the disorderly bouquet into Tino's arms. "A creepy bastard downstairs paid me twenty bucks to give these to you." He snapped, before marching down the hall and slamming the door of his boyfriend's apartment shut.

Tino stood there for a moment, stunned into inaction. Then he retreated into the foyer and slid every lock on the door shut with shaky hands, putting a chair under the door handle for good measure. Ivan couldn't possibly break through those defenses, could he? Unless he had a pickaxe... Tino wouldn't put it past him. Feeling slightly more secure, he turned his attention to the bouquet. There was, as always, a note attached to one of the fuzzy stems. Tino tore it from its string and read it.

_Berwald likes Tino, but Ivan likes Tinushka better._

Tino made a sour face before realizing what it actually said. "Berwald likes Tino"? His eyes widened. Ivan was unstable, certainly, but he had always been remarkably perceptive when it came to the emotions of others, even if he used this information to manipulate more than anything else. Could he be right about Berwald? Tino's memory drifted back to the party in June. That look Berwald had been giving him... was it possible that he also...?

Tino shook his head and picked up the flowers, heading to the kitchen with the intention of stuffing them into the garbage disposal one by one. Berwald turned when he entered, his expression darkening when he saw the bouquet. Tino peaked around the petals and sighed in exasperation.

"What the hell does he think I'm going to do with all these? Really..."

Berwald contemplated for a moment. "Y'could burn 'em."

Tino cackled. "Genius. I wonder if my new landlord will mind if I set up a sacrificial pyre in the backyard." His smile faded. "I really don't know what to do about Ivan... he's been giving me space, but... not in the right way."

"Y'still don't want t'call th'police?"

Tino shook his head as he sat back down at the table. "I can't do that. It would betray his trust."

No matter how much Berwald cared for Tino, he really could not understand his reasoning on the Ivan issue. Why not just get rid of him? Demand that he be reinstitutionalized? Why did Tino insist on bringing trust and friendship into the matter, when it was obvious neither concept even made sense to the crazy Russian? In his eyes, Tino owed Ivan nothing. But Berwald knew he couldn't say that.

Tino heaved a heavy sigh. "A-anyway. We should get packing. Alfred will be here soon."

Berwald nodded and stood, ready and willing to carry anything Tino asked him to.

oooooo

As Berwald expected, Alfred was late. Exactly one hour and thirty two minutes late, judging from his watch, but it didn't seem matter too much. Tino tolerated it with amused annoyance. He had known Alfred too long to expect anything different.

"So how much time did you spend at McDonalds, exactly?" Tino asked, tapping his food as his American friend stepped into the apartment, slurping on a milkshake.

"Only an hour. C'mon, dude, I was hungry! And I need the calories if I'm going to be dragging your shit around all day."

Tino snorted and started picking up boxes to haul down to Alfred's monstrous pickup truck. "Well, get lifting then. Empty calories go fast, and I have a lot of shit."

"Whatever, Tino. Hey Berwald. Arthur says 'hi'. Well..." Alfred rolled his eyes and imitated a snooty British accent. "More like 'please send my kindest regards to Mister Oxenstierna', but, y'know, it's easier just to say 'hi'."

The Swede nodded at him. Over the past months he had come in frequent contact with the obnoxious American pilot. Despite the fact that he was loud, annoying, and reminded him very strongly of his boss, Berwald liked him. Out of all the people he had met through Tino's influence in the previous year, Alfred was one of the few with which he had some prior interaction, as they frequently flew from the same airport. Unlike almost any of Tino's other friends, they had something to talk about.

Tino intercepted any further conversation with an irritated growl as he struggled to keep a box of books balanced in his hands. "Hello? My stuff isn't moving itself, Alfred!"

"Okay already! I'm lifting!"

It took them the rest of the morning to carry the first load of furniture and boxes down three floors and into the bed of Alfred's truck, and by the time they finished, all three had bruises blossoming on their shins courtesy of a runaway table. Thoroughly exhausted, Tino flopped into the front seat of the truck.

"Oof... I don't know if I'll make it the rest of the day..."

Alfred jumped in to the drivers seat beside him. "You'll have to. I am not dragging your stuff all over the county by myself. Where are we headed anyway?"

Tino consulted the map he had printed out earlier that morning. "It looks like the new place is about an hour away..." He trailed off as Berwald materialized out of thin air in the passenger side door.

"Coming with?"

"Mm."

Tino smiled and scooted over to make room for Berwald as the other man edged nervously onto the seat next to him. Squished between his taller friends, Tino normally would have felt claustrophobic, but with Berwald's knee nudging his under the dashboard he was in no mood to complain.

"Alright! " Said Alfred, turning the key in the ignition. "And the Sardine-mobile is off!"

oooooo

For the most part the ride was smooth, if a little frantic as Tino pointed out which streets to turn onto. As they began to get out of the central city and into the more suburban areas, though, the driving became easier, and directions were less needed as they trundled down long, tree-lined roads and past innumerable housing developments.

Tino and Alfred settled into light chit-chat while Berwald stared out the windows of the truck at the houses and woods flashing past. For a while he listened to the conversation, but soon lost interest as it turned from more general topics to gossip he didn't understand. They were just turning onto the road that would take them out to the farthest city limits when something in the rear-view caught his attention.

"T'no."

"Yeah?"

"Think someone's followin' us."

Tino whipped around in his seat. "Oh... oh god..."

A red SUV with tinted windows was following Alfred's car, close on their tail. The driver could barely be recognized through the dark glass, but the hulking shadow hunched over the steering wheel was enough to identify him as Ivan.

Panicking, Tino turned back around and clutched for the steering wheel. "Quick, Alfred! Turn the other direction! Do _something_!"

Alfred leaned away from the Finn's flailing limbs. "Jeez, calm down! We'll have an accident if you keep clawing at me like that." Elbowing Tino's desperate hands aside, he gripped the wheel and stomped hard on the gas pedal, gunning it through the intersection at at least sixty miles per hour.

"Aaaugh! Alfred, not that fast!"

Alfred grinned as he jerked the wheel and sent the car screeching around a corner. "Relax, Tino. I know what I'm doing. I've watched _The Fast and the Furious_,like, fifty times!"

Tino groaned an buried his face in his hands. "We're going to die..."

Alfred laughed as he swerved around some terrified pedestrians, unintentionally sending Tino flying into Berwald's lap. Berwald almost choked at the sudden invasion of his personal space, his glasses thrown askew by one of Tino's sprawling limbs. The Finn squeaked and struggled to get upright, but as Alfred wove through a maze of back-roads and alleyways at close to terminal velocity, his efforts only ended in further entanglement.

Finally finding his bearings, though still still extremely flustered, Berwald managed to grab Tino's shoulders and pull him up into a sitting position against his chest. Tino squeaked again and tensed up as Berwald wrapped his arms around his torso, but with Alfred still driving like a maniac, he was happy for the security Berwald's sturdy arms offered, no matter how embarrassing sitting in his lap was.

After several more minutes of gleeful cackling and screeching tires, Alfred slowed the car and drove out onto a road Tino didn't recognize at all. Turning around in Berwald's tight grip on his midsection proved difficult, so he glanced at the rear view mirror instead. Ivan's SUV was no longer there, left far behind in the insane chase. Relieved, Tino slumped back against Berwald's shoulder and let out a long, pent up breath.

"G'ne?"

Tino nodded weakly. "Gone."

Alfred turned to the two and smiled sheepishly when he saw their situation. "Heh... sorry about that. I got a little carried away."

It was only then that Tino realized that he was still sitting on Berwald's lap, and was all but snuggling against the Swede behind him. Blushing deeply, he began to extricate himself from the strong arms still encircling his waist. Berwald reluctantly loosened his grip and let him maneuver back into his own seat.

"I-it's fine, Alfred. Thanks for getting rid of him. S-so..." Tino stammered, avoiding Berwald's eyes. "Where are we?"

Alfred squinted down the road they had come out onto, taking in the thick forest and complete lack of human settlement. "I have absolutely no idea."

oooooo

**A/N**: And so ends half of what was originally Chapter 9. The second half, Chapter 10, will be up very soon. I'm sorry for the split up, I know it's awkward, but without it this was more than 10k words long. I'm also sorry that so little happens in this chapter. Another result of the split. Anyway.

I owe the inspiration for France's characterization in this to the wonderful Fablespinner, who writes Francis so beautifully. He was my least favourite character in the manga until I read how she writes him. Just the right amount of charm! I by no means tried to copy her characterization (and I lack the talent do it with such flare as she does, anyway), but I did try to respect him and tone down his usual molestasticness as she does. I highly recommend reading Fablespinner's fic "Vinternälskare". It's incredibly sweet and wonderful! Okay, random pimpage over. On to the fact notes!

1. "_espèce de carotte". _I asked my dad, a fluent French speaker, for a tasty way to call someone an idiot. It literally means "species of carrot" and is an idiomatic expression, much like the way English speakers would call someone a "puddinghead" or a "vegetable", I guess. I trust my dad's judgement on this, but if any French speakers have objections, please voice them.

2. Klimppisoppa is a beef and dumpling stew from Ostrobothnia and/or the Åland Islands (my lord and master Wikipedia does not specify) and is therefore more Swedish than other Finnish dishes, due to the Swedish speaking majority in those areas. Also, it is VERY DELICIOUS.

I am neither Swedish nor Finnish (the yaoi soaked blood of Hungary runs through my veins!) so, as I have requested before, to the Swedes and Finns reading this: if I have anything wrong please tell me! I'd like this fic to be as factually accurate as possible.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N**: Finally managed to get around the annoying error that has been plaguing me all week. Thanks to Erandir!

Aaah... when I first started planning this story out, this was the chapter I couldn't wait to write. It's gotten some tweaks and additions, but for the most part it's what I outlined six months ago. I'm glad I finally got to it. It was as fun as I hoped.

Also, before this gets in to the silly and the cute, I'd like to take a serious moment to express my sympathies and support to all those effected by the earthquake and tsunami in Japan. Such a horrible thing to happen. If you haven't donated to Red Cross already, please do if you can. Even ten dollars will help!

**Disclaimer and warning:** I don't own Hetalia. Swearing, as usual, and this chapter is made of cheesy cotton candy.

…. eeew.

oooooo

"Jeez, Tino, could you get anymore white-bread? You're going to be married with kids in two weeks at this rate."

After driving aimlessly along dirt roads for the good part of an hour, they had finally managed to make their way back to civilisation. The condo they stood in front of was a nice little house: yellow, white shuttered, with leafless rose bushes twining up the window frames. A cobbled walkway led to a short flight of steps with iron railings, ending at a white-washed door under a quaint Victorian-styled awning. All pastels and flowers and scrolling stucco. In a word, charming.

Tino laughed nervously at Alfred's proclamation, turning to the car to hide his startled blush. He couldn't help but notice how Berwald seemed to do the same, coughing quietly into his hand and becoming infinitely interested in the condo's crooked mail box.

"M-maybe someday. I don't think I'm exactly husband material at the moment."

Alfred's grin grew wider. "Husband? You'd totally be the wife, dude."

Tino's blush deepened, as did Berwald's. "A-anyway..." His eyes wandered, seeking anything other than the stare he could feel trained on his back. They alighted on another face, smiling and approaching them across the lawn that separated Tino's house from the others. "Eduard! Hey!" He waved at his friend, who jogged over.

"Hey Tino! Welcome to the neighborhood! I'm glad you got here safely."

Tino's face fell slightly as he remembered their sinister encounter. "Well, for the most part anyway. Ivan followed us."

Eduard looked horrified. "Are you serious?"

Tino nodded. "Completely. Alfred got rid of him though, by driving like a maniac." Behind him the American grinned and flashed a thumbs up before going to help Berwald unload a couch from the truck bed.

"So there's no danger, then?"

"I... I hope so. We'll just have to be careful to avoid him on our next trip." Tino sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

Eduard smiled sympathetically. "Well, what ever happens, I have just the thing to cheer you up!" At this juncture, he handed him a very heavy paper bag. Curious, Tino peaked inside and grinned.

"You didn't..."

"Oh yes I did."

"How did you get it?" Tino asked in disbelief.

His friend shrugged dismissively. "Online."

"Eduard, are you a magical unicorn?"

"Maybe. Anyway, I came over because I thought you'd like to meet our landlord here and sign the last of your papers. You'll need your key too."

Tino could have smacked himself on the forehead for forgetting. "Of course! I should have done that as soon as we got here..." Before his friend could reply, Tino ran back to the car to stow his gift away in the passenger-side footwell and tell Alfred where he was going. He was just turning to follow Eduard down the road when a shadow fell over him. He looked up to see Berwald standing there.

"Uh..."

"Was thinkin' a'comin' with ya. Want t'ask 'bout yer mailbox. S'broken."

"O-oh. Sure. Of course, you're welcome to. I'm going to be signing a lot of boring documents, though, so you probably won't have much to do."

Berwald shrugged and they started of down the sidewalk together with Eduard. Behind them Alfred arched an eyebrow and smiled as he started to unload the first boxes.

oooooo

With the exception the brass number nailed to the frame, the door Eduard left them at was identical to Tino's. He knocked. For a moment there was no sound from inside the house, and he wondered if Eduard had led them to the wrong address. Then, suddenly, there was a muffled yawn and the sound of dozens of skittering feet. Tino glanced up at the Swede standing behind him, confused at the bizarre sound. Berwald looked as completely perplexed as he did.

Footsteps and a sleepy "It's not time for food yet..." sounded from behind the door before it was opened. Tino turned his attention back to the small man standing in front of him.

"Ah! You must be Väinämöinen-san! I'm Kiku Honda. Come in, come in. I'm sorry you find me in such a state. I was taking my afternoon nap."

Tino smiled at the mispronunciation of his name a he stepped through the door. "Completely all right. There's no need for such formality, Mr. Honda. You can just call me Tino... ah!" He trailed off as he felt something rubbing against his leg. Startled, he looked down, then laughed. At least ten cats were weaving around their legs and mewling, looking up at them with expectant, hungry eyes. He bent over and scratched a sleek black one under the chin.

"Would you like some tea? I just started a pot."

"Yes please! Oh, and this is my friend, Berwald. He's helping me move in."

Kiku smiled at Berwald, who was squatting on the floor and petting the cats. "You are very welcome here, Berwald-san."

The other man didn't reply, too preoccupied with rubbing the belly of a small calico to hear him. Then the shrill whistle of a teapot drew Kiku into the kitchen. A moment later reemerged with a tray of delicate, steaming cups which he set down on a low table in the living room.

"If you'll give me a moment, Tino-san, I'll get he paperwork."

Tino nodded. "Yes, of course! Thank you for the tea!"

Kiku bowed his way out, and when he was gone Tino chuckled and knelt down beside Berwald on the living room floor, scratching the euphoric cat behind the ears. "I didn't know you were a cat person."

"Mm. Can't have one 't m'house 'cause 'f t'instr'ments."

"That's a shame. A cat would give you some company. I really don't know how you do it, living out there all by yourself. You must get so lonely sometimes."

Berwald could have very easily asked the same question. He had no idea how he had managed to get through the past couple of months without going insane. Before he had met Tino, he had never been lonely. Solitude was just his way. But ever since he had started visiting the city, that had changed, and life in the isolated cabin had become almost unbearable.

Feeling uncharacteristically brave, he was about to express this sentiment to Tino when they were interrupted by the reemergence of Kiku, accompanied by a tall, dark haired man.

"This is my partner, Heracles." He said, gesturing to his companion. "Well, Tino-san, if you'd like to sit on the couch we can start going over your insurance information." He turned to the man standing behind them. "This won't take very long."

In a way that greatly reminded Tino of Berwald, the man called Heracles only nodded in response and quietly moved into the kitchen to feed the dozens of cats.

oooooo

As predicted, Berwald had very little to occupy himself with while Tino signed innumerable, boring documents. He felt awkward, sitting on the floor of a stranger's house, but the distraction offered by the cats purring against his legs was at least sufficient to pass the time.

Tino and his landlord were just starting on the last round of papers when he was unexpectedly joined by Kiku's partner. He didn't say anything as he knelt down next to Berwald on the floor, and the Swede decided that this man was someone he could get along with. After a minute or two in which they both attended to the cats in separate silence, Heracles finally spoke.

"Will you... need any help... moving in?" He had a slow, ponderous way of talking, as if every word had equal importance and weight to him.

"Nh. Should b'fine. Isn't t'much stuff."

"Alright." Heracles paused to pick up one of the cats. It perched happily on his shoulder, brushing its tail against his curly hair. "They are... wonderful creatures."

"Mm."

"Nothing... like dogs."

Berwald nodded. Not that he didn't like dogs, but cats were so much more quiet and graceful. But now that Heracles said it, he was reminded of something...

Berwald turned to his new acquaintance, "Actually... could use s'me help. C'n I ask ya a fav'r?"

oooooo

Tino sighed and lay back against the cushions of Kiku's couch, every paper finally signed and all business squared away. The keys were in his possession, and the house was legally his. An overwhelming sense of relief flooded him, though he had many things that still needed doing. He was free of the city, free of confusing insurance transactions, and free of Ivan, and any potential difficulty with unpacking or organizing were trivial to him in comparison to the hardship he had left behind.

Content, he sipped his lukewarm tea and looked at Kiku across the low coffee table. His new landlord was smiling fondly at Heracles, who had been sitting to the side while they conducted their business, talking quietly with Berwald. The two men seemed to converse very easily. This was a surprising development. Considering what he knew of Berwald's disposition and what he assumed of Kiku's partner's, Tino had imagined awkward silence, but instead they seemed to be carrying on quite nicely, albeit with the usual mumbling on Berwald's part and a great deal of yawning on Heracles's.

"It's so nice to see Heracles talking to someone," Kiku mused, snapping Tino's attention away from Berwald's concentrated brow and intelligent eyes. "He's usually so quiet around guests."

Tino smiled and nodded. "Berwald is the same way... I wonder what they're talking about."

At that moment Berwald glanced up, and, noticing Tino looking over, smiled a private little smile before returning to the many cats pawing at his knees. Adrenaline thrummed through Tino's body at the eye contact, and if he had not been positive that his face was incapable of making such an expression, Tino would have said that smile, so captivating on Berwald's thin, pale face, looked... mischievous.

He turned back to Kiku, unsuccessfully trying to hide his reddened cheeks. "S-so, is that all, Mr. Honda?"

"Yes, Tino-san. Welcome to the neighborhood!" He stood and Tino followed suit. "If you have any problems feel free to call on us, and if you and your friends would like to stop by for dinner sometime, you'd be most welcome."

"Thank you so much, Mr. Honda." Tino said, shaking Kiku's hand.

"Do you need any help moving in?"

"Oh no, I should be fine. I have a veritable army of manly men to help me lift things." Tino laughed and turned to Berwald, who had observed their exchange and was now standing and saying goodbye to Heracles in anticipation of leaving.

Tino smiled up over his shoulder at the Swede. "Ready to go?"

"Mm."

Waving their last goodbyes to Kiku and Heracles, they started off down the road towards Tino's new home.

oooooo

By the time all of Tino's possessions had been transported from the city and carried into the condo, the autumn sun was sinking and the air had become very chilly. Tino waved goodbye to Alfred as he drove away in his behemoth of a car before turning to Berwald, who was standing under the awning.

"Shall we go in? It's getting cold."

Berwald nodded and they entered the house together. Tino turned on the lights and looked around the front landing, sighing at the piles of boxes yet to be unpacked. Then his eyes lighted on the gift Eduard had handed him earlier.

"Hey Berwald, how about a little house-warming toast? Eduard brought me some salmiakki koskenkorva!" He chirped, clapping his hands together in his enthusiasm.

Berwald raised an eyebrow. He didn't know much Finnish, but he knew what salmiak was, and he wasn't too keen on ingesting it any time soon. All the same he grunted in affirmation, unable to resist the hopeful look Tino was giving him, and followed him into the kitchen.

After rummaging around in a box for the bottle opener and some glasses, Tino plunked himself down on one of the high stools next to the kitchen island. He uncorked the bottle of black liquid and smelled it, rolling his eyes back in bliss.

"Aaah... of all the things I miss about Finland, this is what I miss the most." He poured out a generous shot for himself, but paused before doing the same for Berwald. "It's... an acquired taste. You don't have to have any if you don't want to."

Berwald shook his head, gesturing for him to continue filling the glass. He was feeling brave enough to try a little, if only to please the other man, but the smell the koskenkorva was giving off as Tino shrugged and poured him a shot was not promising.

Tino's eyes twinkled as he raised the glass. "Skål." He said, before throwing it back with ease. Berwald lifted his own glass to his lips, eyeing the black liquid warily. His nose protested against the unfamiliar licorice smell, but Tino was now looking up at him expectantly, waiting for him to drink it. Screwing his eyes shut and forcing his stomach to stop churning, he poured the koskenkorva into his mouth.

Almost immediately, however, he was coughing and spluttering. The alcohol burned his throat as it went down, but it was the salty licorice taste that had him choking. It was disgusting. Eyes running, he looked at Tino, expecting to see disappointment. It was therefore a surprise when he saw he was instead almost helpless with laughter, gripping the edge of the kitchen island in order to stay upright in his chair.

"Oh God, Berwald, I'm so sorry for laughing but... your face when you..." Tino managed to gasp before lapsing into another fit of hysterical laughter. Berwald blushed as the other man continued to laugh at him.

Tino managed to recover after several moments, though it was obvious it was costing him a great effort to restrain his mirth. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve before taking Berwald's half-drunk glass of koskenkorva from the counter and walking over to the sink.

"Obviously not to your liking." He chuckled, as he poured the drink down the drain. "Here..." He returned a moment later with a glass of water. Berwald took it and gulped it down, attempting to eradicate all remnants of the harsh licorice taste from his mouth.

"Well, would you like something else? This wouldn't be much of a housewarming party without lots of drinking." Tino said, pouring himself some more of the koskenkorva. Berwald shook his head. Tino's talk about housewarming parties had reminded him of his evil plan.

"F'rgot t'tell ya. Got ya somethin'. Fer t'house."

Tino raised his eyes from his glass, his brows quirked in curiosity. "Really? You didn't have to do that, Berwald..."

"Nh. Gotta g'get it."

"O-okay. Should I close my eyes?"

"Mm." Tino's lids fell shut, an expectant smile curling at the corners of his mouth. Berwald stared for a moment, gulping at the unintentionally inviting expression. Then he remembered what he was supposed to be doing and silently walked to the door.

Tino heard the outside door shut with great confusion

_He... he didn't just _leave..._ did he?_

Opening his eyes a crack, he peered around his new kitchen and strained his ears. No, Berwald was definitely no longer in the house. What could he possibly be retrieving that required him to go outside? Tino hoped it wasn't something extravagant, like a car. He wouldn't put it past Berwald to buy such things for his friends.

On his last visit they had gone to a very expensive restaurant, and Berwald had insisted on paying the bill. No matter how much Tino had objected, he could not be stopped, and to top it off he had refused to accept any sort of thanks... Tino smiled fondly. Berwald's stubbornness was certainly frustrating sometimes, but it was part of what made him so uniquely Berwald, and Tino liked that much more than he wanted to admit out loud.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of familiar clunking footsteps on the stairs outside, and he closed his eyes again to wait. He heard Berwald come in and shuck his boots before his footsteps approached the kitchen. They stopped right outside the partially closed door, and the low rumble of the Swede's voice came from the spot.

"Yer eyes still closed?"

"Yes!"

There was no reply, but Tino heard him come into the room. His footsteps stopped in front of the stool, and he jumped when he felt rough, cold hands pick up his own from his lap and gently maneuver them around something. A warm, soft, _wriggling _something.

Tino's eyes snapped open, and he gasped. In his hands he was holding a tiny white puppy. She squirmed in his grasp, yapping squeakily and trying to lick his face.

"Oh my god, Berwald..." His voice was hoarse trembling as he carefully set the little dog down on the counter. For a moment Berwald worried that he had upset his friend, but then he almost fell over as Tino flung his arms around his neck. Choking, he glanced down at the blond head brushing against his chin.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you so much!"

Still gasping for air and blushing furiously, Berwald awkwardly patted Tino's back. He had not been expecting such an enthusiastic reaction. "Mm. Said y'wanted one."

Tino laughed merrily into his chest. "I cannot _believe_ that you remember that... that was at least six months ago!"

More like ten, but Berwald wouldn't correct him. After a second, Tino pulled away as if suddenly realizing what he was doing, and turned back to the little puppy, who was still sitting expectantly on the table. She barked and licked Tino's fingers when he scratched her behind the ears, and he laughed.

"She's adorable... does she have a name?"

Berwald shook his head. "Sh'didn't have one at t'shelter."

Tino pursed his lips in thought. "Hmmm... how about 'Cheesecastle'?..." Berwald flinched at the proposed name. Tino's hidden eccentricities would never fail to surprise him, and he had not yet encountered this one.

Noticing Berwald's expression, Tino frowned. "No? What about 'Sardine Picnic'? That's a cute name!"

Berwald cringed again. What was with the bizarre names? He decided to intervene. "Yer landlord w's callin' her H'nat'mago."

Tino's frown disappeared instantly. "Aaah, so _that's_ where you were hiding her..." He stroked the puppy's head. "Hanatamago... I like it! It's cute! Hanatamago it is!"

The newly christened Hanatamago yipped happily as Tino petted her, and skittered around the countertop. Tino laughed again. "She's such a bundle of energy! Maybe we should take her for a walk. If we don't tire her out, I'll never get to sleep tonight..." Still giggling, Tino picked the tiny dog up and set her on the floor before searching through a box and extracting a length of twine, which he tied loosely around her neck as a makeshift leash.

"There! Would you like to come with, Berwald? Maybe we could pick up a hot chocolate somewhere, since it's so chilly."

" 'Kay."

The smile Tino gave him was dazzling as he picked up Hanatamago and headed to the foyer. No matter how many times he graced him with that smile, Berwald knew he would never grow tired of it. He went to the foyer to find the Finn wrapping himself in warm layers. Tino looked up from winding a blue scarf around his neck.

"Oh... you probably don't have any warm things. Would you like to borrow a hat or something?"

Berwald picked up his coat from where he had draped it over a chair. "M'fine."

But Tino was not going down without a fight. "No, really, Berwald. It's only twenty degrees outside! I'd feel horrible if you caught a chill... here..."

Berwald tried to protest, but before he could get a single syllable out, Tino dove headfirst into a box full of linens and clothes and effectively cut off any further objections. After a moment of digging there was a muffled "hah!" and he reemerged with a pair of earmuffs. Pink, fluffy earmuffs. Berwald grimaced.

"They're from Feliks... I know they're kind of ridiculous, but it's all I can find. Please?"

Again, he tried to protest, but he found, as he had many times before, that it was impossible for him to say "no" to Tino when he gave him that look. He took the hideous earmuffs and fit them over his head.

Tino repressed a laugh at how silly strong, scary, stoic Berwald looked wearing the girlish headgear and stepped out into the wintry night, dog running ahead and friend following behind.

oooooo

Winter had come early that year, and a thin crust of snow and frost crunched under their feet as they walked down the quiet streets. There was very little conversation. Tino examined the roads as they walked along them, acquainting himself with his new neighborhood. However, his attention was often diverted by the energetic puppy walking ahead of them, who continually poked her tiny nose into everything that seemed interesting. More than once Tino had to gently tug the length of twine she was attached to in order to prevent her from becoming too curious about a cat or piece of garbage. What with the distracting dog, Berwald doubted that Tino saw much of the houses and shops about them at all.

Berwald himself was equally as distracted, but not by Hanatamago, who leapt up and down in excitement as they left the lamp-lit streets and turned into the little park at the corner of the block. It didn't seem to matter how long he looked at Tino, he just couldn't stop. The moon was dim, only a crescent in the sky, but the light still glinted on Tino's hair and eyes. It reminded him of the time, so many months ago, that he had happened upon Tino in his living room. He had been bathed in moonlight then too, and though it had been much brighter and more striking then, Berwald was no less transfixed now.

Tino laughed at Hanatamago's antics as she sniffed curiously around a park bench, and Berwald idly wondered what it would be like to kiss those lips, to feel that smile pressed against his own mouth. Maybe Tino still tasted like the salmiakki koskenkorva. He hadn't liked it himself, but he was sure that it would be wonderful if he had it from Tino's tongue.

Shivering, he averted his eyes. As much as he wanted that, as much as he had ached for months to take the little Finn up in his arms and show him how he felt, he knew he couldn't do it.

It wasn't so much that he was shy, though that was certainly part of it, it was just... the last months had been so wonderful, and the friendship between them had become so strong. Did he really want to ruin that by doing something as stupid and invasive as kissing him?

And then, of course, Tino had his own problems to deal with. Moving was a big transition, even without a distracting relationship. Ivan was also a constant threat. Tino had said that, apart from the sunflowers, he had not been bothering him, but judging from his dramatic reappearance and the ensuing car chase that afternoon, Berwald knew Ivan had not given up on winning Tino's affections. In such a situation, he was positive that Tino would not want any sort of romantic attentions from him, or from anyone else.

He didn't even know if Tino felt anything more than friendship for him. The Finn had always been so kind to him, so sweet and understanding, but then again he was kind to everyone. And hadn't he said just that morning that he "wasn't husband material"? No... Berwald couldn't see how anything could ever happen between them. There were just too many things in the way.

So wrapped up in his thoughts, Berwald did not notice Tino return to his side. He jumped when the other man spoke.

"She really is the most wonderful present I've ever gotten." He nodded over at Hanatamago, "I... really don't know how to thank you."

Berwald grunted and looked at his feet, nervously adjusting his glasses. "Don't have t'thank me."

Tino laughed quietly at that, breath rising from his mouth in swirling clouds, but he said nothing, staring fixedly at the frolicking puppy. Berwald followed his gaze, unwilling to break the silence that had settled. He was just starting to feel awkward when, suddenly, he felt hesitant fingers brush his. He could not stop his startled intake of breath, nor could he suppress the heat rising in his face, as Tino intertwined their hands, thin cotton gloves wonderfully soft and warm against his bare skin.

He glanced over at Tino. His face was turned away, but not so far as to hide the bright blush on his cheeks or the shy smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. Shaking slightly from the rush of adrenaline produced by the contact, Berwald tentatively curled his own fingers around Tino's and gently pressed their palms together.

He couldn't see Tino's expression, but he felt the tremor run through the slender fingers as he tightened his grip. The most wonderful hope burned in his chest, and he was about to pull Tino closer to his side when he felt a sharp tug in the opposite direction, and Tino's laugh, perhaps slightly higher and more nervous than usual, sounded from his left.

"She's off again!" Tino chuckled, as the inquisitive little puppy pulled insistently on the make-shift leash, heading for the road. Berwald had no choice but to be dragged along after, Tino's fingers still tightly wrapped around his own.

oooooo

Tino didn't loosen his grasp on Berwald's hand until they reached the door of the condo, where he finally let go to remove his gloves. He retrieved the key from a pocket and unlocked the door, but stopped before opening it. Standing several steps back on the walk, Berwald saw Tino's shoulders twitch before he turned, face shadowed by the light from the windows, eyes dark with intent.

"Y-you can take those off now, Berwald..." he said, gesturing to the fuzzy pink earmuffs as he moved closer. "I know you felt silly..."

Berwald didn't move a muscle as Tino halted in front of him and looked up at him, smiling nervously, before reaching up and plucking the offending earmuffs from his head. As he pulled away the tips of his fingers lightly grazed Berwald's jaw.

Time froze. Tino, scared that he had crossed some forbidden barrier but too transfixed to retract his hands, stood motionless. Berwald, likewise, couldn't move. Even Hanatamago settled, and for a moment everything was silent and still in the little bubble of illumination provided by Tino's porch light.

Berwald knew instantly what was about to happen, and Tino seemed to also. His eyes were wide with fear and anticipation as Berwald hesitantly, almost reverently, raised his hand and brushed his fingers over the smooth flesh on the back of Tino's petite, perfect hand. He heard the Finn's breath quicken at the contact, felt the trail of goosebumps left in the wake of his touch.

Tino was having trouble breathing. The expression in Berwald's eyes was the same as the one he had worn nearly four months ago at the Midsummer party. It was no less irresistible now as it had been then, and he felt himself growing dizzy, drowning in the depths of those flickering cerulean irises.

Perhaps it was because of the intensity of the expression, or maybe it was the sudden apprehension that seized him as Berwald began to inch closer to him that made him step back. As he did there was an organic crunching noise that most definitely was not made by the thin coating of ice on the walk behind him, and just like that, the tension shattered. Face twisted in confusion, Tino turned and looked down.

There, partially crushed into the snow on Tino's doorstep, lay a single sunflower.

oooooo

**A/N:** I so enjoy ruining moments.

Also, I don't know about anyone else, but I've always thought that Berwald and Heracles would be total BFFs, character-wise. Weird headcanon is weird.

Notes, as usual.:

1.) Berwald's earmuff wearing was inspired by a beautiful painting by Sayuri1314 on Deviantart. I know we can't post links, but here's one anyway.: http: / / sayuri1314 . deviant art . com / gallery /#/ d32zo2s Just take out the spaces and you should be fine. I _highly_ recommend looking through her gallery. Everything she does is incredible.

2.) Random question... I don't want to burst anybody's bubble, but in accordance with the pronunciation of Franz Berwald's (the classical composer dear Su-san is probably named for) name, wouldn't "Berwald" sound like "Bervald"? Same with Ludwig. Just asking.

3.) Having never tried it before, I cannot completely commit to my statement in this that salmiakki is disgusting. Though generally I hate licorice, I have ordered a box of Finnish salmiakki just to make sure. I am scared.

4.) Drawings. I finally have some for you! :D Here they are!:

http : / / deepwoodwayfinder . deviant art . com / art / APH-Let-Me-In-Illustration-201718012 (remove spaces)

http: / / deepwoodwayfinder . deviant art . com / art / APH-Let-Me-In-Illustration-2-201755275 (ditto)

There will be more, but they are slow in coming. It's hard to finish a chapter _and_ drawings when I also have mounds of History of Agriculture homework to get through. Thank you for your patience and I hope you like them! :)


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** There are no words in the English language sufficient enough to describe how sorry I am for leaving this story for five months. I am so, so, so, SO sorry! I have no good excuse for abandoning of you all (and at such a terrible cliffhanger too... D: ). I would not be surprised or offended if you gave up on me months ago. But I swear to all the gods that man has ever believed in that I WILL FINISH THIS GODDAM STORY, SWEET BUTTERY JESUS. There is only one more chapter after this one. I hope it and this are satisfactory to you after my long, long, _long_ hiatus.

Also, I'm sorry if this chapter is a bit weird. I wrote half of it in April and half of it in the past two weeks, and both times I was running a very high fever, so I was a little delusional. Also also, if anyone catches the Muse reference, I will be a happy person. Also also also, pfffft, oh, Italy...

**Warnings and whatnot**: Things get pretty unpleasant here. Not enough to warrant a rating change, I think, but faint-of-heart be cautioned: I am not stingy with the injuries or the swearing. Also, I don't own these guys.

oooooo

It took Berwald at least five minutes to calm Tino down enough to get him inside. He made sure the door was locked, bolted, and chained before turning back to the other man. Tino stood among the piles of boxes in the front hall, wordless and shaking. There were no tears in is eyes or on his pale cheeks, but he looked so lost, so completely alone and afraid. It wrenched at Berwald's heart to see his friend— such a cheerful, resilient man— in such a pitiable state.

"Y'goin' t'be 'kay?" He asked, walking over to Tino as if approaching a fearful bird.

Predictably, he jumped at the sound and looked up fearfully. Berwald sighed and placed one large hand on his shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. It seemed to work, though the trembling did not subside.

"Y'want some tea 'r somethin'?"

It was only then that Tino's expression relaxed, ever so slightly, into a timid smile. "That would be really nice, thank you."

Berwald nodded and began to make his way to the kitchen, but Tino's voice, quiet and strained, momentarily stopped him.

"I'm so sorry that you've been dragged into all this. It's my stupid problem, I... it should be my burden to bear."

"S' not stupid. N'yer m'... m'friend. Want t'help ya." Berwald could feel his face warming up. What he said was true, of course, and he was not ashamed, but having such an emotional conversation after what almost happened on the front steps earlier was difficult at best. He wanted so desperately for the word "friend" to mean so much more than what it sounded like.

If he picked up on the subtle nuance in his voice, Tino did not mention it. Instead his face became a bit brighter, a bit more assured. "You do, you know. More than I could ever thank you for properly."

"Hn."

Tino only smiled, though it faded quickly as the crisis of the situation loomed closer in his mind. Scooping up Hanatamago, who had been pawing at his ankles for several minutes, he glanced up at the taller man.

"I think I need to sit down for a while... clear my head, call the police. If you need any help, just shout."

Berwald nodded in his singularly taciturn way and disappeared into the kitchen while Tino turned in he opposite direction and headed for the living room door.

oooooo

Tino took a deep, fortifying breath before dialing the emergency number on his cell phone. Despite it all, he still faltered when he spoke.

"H-hello? Is this the police department?"

A very sweet voice answered him, a woman's. She sounded much to young to be an officer. "Yes, it is. What seems to be the problem, sir?"

"W-well, um..."

How was he supposed to explain such a situation? He was pretty sure flowers were not illegal, even threatening ones. He decided on the most basic of descriptions, leaving out as much inessential information as possible. He had a stalker, the stalker was scary, the stalker was leaving threatening messages. No, there had been no violence. No, he was not alone. No, he did not have a criminal record. Yes, Väinämöinen with a "V". The regimented proceedings only served to heighten Tino's anxiety. Further investigation was never proposed by the woman on the other end of the line, neither was any sort of protection or arrest. Tino began to jitter in his seat.

"Excuse me..." He finally interrupted the cool voice, "But will an officer be able to come to my house and provide further assistance in this matter?"

"I am sorry, Mr. Väinämöinen, but in cases such as these where there has been no violent interaction, we can do nothing without valid evidence of assault or kidnapping."

"O-oh... okay then." He slumped against the back of the couch in defeat. "Thank you anyway."

The last minute of conversation consisted of questions about his personal information and the regular formalities. By the time he hung up, Tino was beginning to feel more desperate and helpless than he ever had in his life. Despite all his training as a therapist, despite all his years dealing with Ivan, and despite all his good intentions, he had no idea how to deal with the situation he found himself in.

Honestly, he didn't even want to deal with it. Where was even supposed to start? He knew already that he could not reason with Ivan, but neither could he give him what he wanted. And if Ivan did decide to do something the police classified as "violent interaction", Tino wasn't sure if he'd be able to hold him off for long enough. This thought sent chills down his spine. What would Ivan do to him? Despite his general creepiness, Tino was positive that physical injury was not something the Russian wanted to inflict, but there were other things a desperate, imbalanced man could do...

Tino shuddered. No, he would not let his thoughts go down that road. Not now. He needed to have his head together for this crisis. He needed to be rational, a psychologist and a doctor before all else. He needed to be okay.

Sighing, he flopped down onto the couch, placing Hanatamago on his chest as he did. She looked very tired, her shiny black eyes half lidded, her head bobbing down towards her paws. Tino patted her drooping head.

"I guess that walk really tired you out, huh?"

Hanatamago yipped quietly and jumped off her master's chest before curling up into a fuzzy little ball at his side. Tino laughed softly as she drifted off, thankful that at least someone in this house knew what to do. Yawning and stretching his aching muscles, he pulled a flimsy blanket over his body. He couldn't remember the last time he had been more exhausted. Just a short nap before Berwald came in with the tea wouldn't do any harm, would it? It would help him relax, have his wits about him in case something happened. Content at least in this thought, he sunk almost instantly into a deep sleep.

oooooo

When Berwald entered the living room he found Tino stretched out on the couch, snoring quietly. Beside him Hantamago dozed, snuffling at her dreams. Berwald couldn't help but smile at the scene as he tiptoed into the room, making the utmost effort to remain silent. He set down the steaming mug of tea on the coffee table before flicking off the lights in the room, plunging it into a silvery semi-darkness.

Tino's face was just barely visible in the gloom. Berwald had never seen him look so troubled, even in waking. The lines of stress were prominent in the shadows, his eyelids twitched erratically, and every once in a while he would mutter something or shiver, disturbing the dog from her rest more than once.

Berwald sighed deeply and stared at the Finn's face. Those stresslines looked so out of place on his usually smooth features, so unnatural and troubling. Lines like that weren't meant to mar such a perfect face. Sitting down cross-legged on the floor, Berwald reached out and ghosted his thumb over the crease between Tino's eyebrows before gently brushing several loose hairs from his forehead. He twitched in his sleep at the contact, but even so the tight muscles around his eyes and mouth relaxed slightly and the anxious shivering subsided. Berwald sighed again and leaned back against the arm of the couch.

He squinted at his watch in the dark. It was past midnight, much to late to fly back home like he had originally planned. He found he didn't mind that much. Tino needed help, and as long as he did, he would stay with him. He had heard Tino's conversation with the police, heard the disappointment and the fear in his voice before he hung up. No one was coming to help, so Berwald figured that that responsibility now fell to him. Silently he promised himself that he would never let any harm come to his friend. Even though Tino couldn't hear that promise, didn't know he had made it, Berwald swore he would keep it to the last.

oooooo

The glowing numbers on Berwald's wristwatch clicked over to the four o'clock mark without a sound, and the three occupants of the room slept on undisturbed. On the couch, Tino shifted in his sleep, his hand brushing over his tiny dozing dog before unconsciously clutching onto the fabric of Berwald's shirt as if it were a security blanket. Though the Swede did not wake, he snorted sleepily in response and rolled his head over on the couch arm, his hair only just tickling Tino's knuckles. The dim light of the setting moon cast shifting shadows over their faces when they moved, but neither woke.

Then, suddenly, a small noise echoed through the mostly empty house. It was very quiet, only a small creak of the floorboards, but it was just loud enough to disrupt Tino's slumber. It cut through his perturbed dreams, waking him instantly. He sat up, losing his grip on Berwald's sleeve as he did so, and looked around, groggy and disoriented. For a moment he forgot where he was, panic clawing at his insides when he didn't recognize the room he was in. Frantic, he was about to spring from the couch when he noticed Berwald sitting on the floor. The sight of the his face, ghostly white and peaceful in the dim moonlight, brought Tino back to reality. He was in his new house, not kidnapped and hidden away in some dungeon of Ivan's devising. And Berwald was here. Relief flooded over him.

It was not to last, however. Something had woken him, he knew. Something disturbing and out of place, but his brain was too jumbled from sleep and nightmares to remember anything other than a noise. A small, unobtrusive noise, but nonetheless, it had to be investigated. Praying that Ivan had not found a way to get into the house and wishing he had a weapon of some sort, preferably a baseball bat, Tino stood.

Carefully, so as not to wake Berwald or Hanatamago, he peaked around the frame into the entry hall, but saw nothing but silvery moonlight and piles of boxes waiting to be unpacked. Sighed in relief, he began to tiptoe through the hall to the kitchen, but a creak, much louder than before, sounded from behind him and he froze. Slowly, he turned, dreading what he might discover lurking in the gloomy corners, but before he could complete his turn, he was grabbed by behind by steely strong arms. A moment later he felt the pressure of hand closing over his mouth, effectually cutting off his ability to call for help.

Tino immediately began to fight the arms crushing into his torso, but it was no use, his arms were pinned to his sides and his flailing legs found nothing to kick. He was completely and utterly helpless in his captor's grasp.

"Hello, my little _zaichik._" Ivan's voice hissed from behind, sneering lips brushing against Tino's earlobe. "Vanka is so happy to see you again. Heehee!" There was insidious intent in that deranged voice. Panic rising in his throat, the Finn continued his attempts to struggle free of Ivan's iron hold, but the Russian only tightened his grip.

"Oh, no, no, no, you won't be getting away from me this time, Tinushka. We will go far, far away and be happy together forever!" At these words, Ivan began to make his way towards the door. Through the darkened window, Tino could just barely make out the hulking outline of Ivan's car.

_No, no, no, no! _He needed to get free, and he needed to _now_, before Ivan could force him into that car and whisk him away from everything, everyone, he cared about. But the man was too strong for him, overpowering his every desperate effort to get free, cutting off his air whenever he made the slightest noise. Tino began to wriggle his head, slowly extricating his nose and mouth from the hand pressed against his face with enormous preoccupied with dragging his captive towards the outside door, Ivan did not notice the minute twisting of Tino's head until it was too late to stop it. In a last-ditch bid to draw air and scream for Berwald, Tino bit down on the suffocating hand.

Ivan squealed and immediately withdrew his hand, whimpering as he stared, shocked, at the bleeding marks Tino's teeth had left.

"T-Tinushka bit me!"

Meanwhile, Tino reveled in his success as he filled his lungs with a glorious breath of air. Before he could let it out in a cry for help, however, Ivan sunk his own teeth deep into the side of his neck, and that precious air was instead released in a scream of pain.

Ivan's hand was back over his mouth in an instant, and his efforts to get Tino outside and into his car redoubled. As the front door drifted into the side of his vision, Tino gave up all hope of being rescued and resigned himself to his fate. He let the tears of fear and pain he had been holding back roll silently down his cheeks.

Then, suddenly, Ivan's groping hands were pried off of him and he was pulled away from the door. Another set of arms, infinitely more gentle than Ivan's, wrapped around him in a protective embrace.

"Wh't _th_'_hell_ d'ya think yer doin'?"

Tino let out a tiny gasp of air. He had never heard Berwald's voice convey so much emotion before. Hesitantly, he glanced up at the usually stoic face above him, only to flinch and immediately look back down. Berwald's face was scary enough normally, but now, angry and shadowed by the late night moonlight streaming through the front windows, the flashing eyes and harsh angles of his face were absolutely terrifying.

"Oh, hello there, little Swedey! Vanka was just going to take Tinushka for a romantic little walk, da?" The sweetness in Ivan's voice was sickening, but his smile, wide and terrible, communicated an entirely different, more dangerous emotion.

"Y'll b'doin no such thing."

"Oh, yes? And how is _Berwald _going to stop me?" The name was spat from the Russian's mouth like venom. His next words shot like bullets from his mouth, all pretense of benevolence abandoned for vicious bitterness. "You are not even brave enough to tell Tinushka you love him, but Vanka is."

Tino felt Berwald's whole body stiffen at Ivan's words. Cautiously, he peaked up at Berwald's face again. His mouth was still set in an angry, determined scowl, but his eyes were wide. They flicked down momentarily to meet his, and the smaller man inhaled sharply. Their expression was usually so even and calm, but now they looked shocked, vulnerable, and almost desperate with fear, as if what Ivan had said would make Tino wrench himself from Berwald's arms in horror and disgust.

"I..."

Ivan cut him off with a shower of gleeful giggling. "Heehee, he looks so scared! Swedey is a coward. He cannot keep Tinushka from Vanka!"

With this, the Russian lunged. Tino had only a moment to get out of the way before Ivan's fist collided with Berwald's jaw. The Swede grunted and loosened his protective hold on Tino as he staggered backwards from the force of the punch. Tino gasped and moved to Berwald's side, grabbing his arm and pulling him up, only to be pushed back with surprising force. The other man's voice was low and insistent, even as he refused to meet Tino's eyes.

"Don' help me. I'll b'fine. Go call th'police."

"No! You're bleeding! He'll kill you! I can't just—"

"Please, Tino." Berwald's guilty eyes lingered on the bleeding marks on Tino's neck, evidence of his failure to keep his promise.

Tino let out a shaky breath and nodded, letting go and beating a hasty retreat. Behind him, Berwald moved to block the entrance from Ivan's view, mouth rigid with determination.

With the escape of his prisoner, Ivan shrieked something inhuman and terrifying before launching himself at Berwald again, fists balled up in rage. This time, however, Berwald was prepared for the attack and dodged it, though just barely. Recovering, he turned and deftly blocked another series blows with his arm before lashing out with a foot. He didn't know what part of Ivan he hit, but the Russian grunted in pain and stumbled into a pile of boxes, toppling them with a deafening crash.

Berwald too a moment to mourn the destruction of Tino's fancy dinner plates before turning his attention back to his rival. Ivan stared back at him, teeth bared in a predatory sneer, pupils constricted despite the darkness in the room.

"Berwald... will _not_... take my Tinushka away from me." He snarled.

Then, he reached into his coat and slowly drew out a long, menacing pipe. The unorthodox weapon glinted in the moonlight as Ivan drew closer. Glancing over the approaching shoulder, Berwald noticed with a jolt of fear that Tino was standing in the shadowy doorway, terrified eyes transfixed on the pipe as if its shining metallic shaft were hypnotic.

The distraction was exactly the opening that Ivan needed, and he struck out with the pipe, hitting Berwald's side with enough force to knock him, wheezing, to the floor. Behind him Tino cried out in alarm before running into the room, but he was barely over the threshold before the pipe made contact with his back, sending him crashing down, completely winded. He struggled up just in time to see Ivan strike Berwald's shoulder with the pipe. Berwald, who had been trying to stand, fell to his knees, clutching at his arm. His glasses hung crooked and shattered from one ear as he stared up at Ivan, eyes still flickering with defiance even as his vision swam from the pain.

Ivan only smiled down at him with childlike cruelty.

"See now, little Swedey? Berwald is a weak coward. He cannot stop me. He will not stop me."

His deranged smile grew wider. He raised the pipe above his head, reveled a moment in his victory, and brought it hammering down onto the back of Berwald's skull with nauseating finality. Berwald's body went limp and he fell to the floor, blood trickling from a large gash in his scalp.

"Berwald!" Tino scrambled from the floor in a blind panic, completely ignoring his own considerable pain as he sprinted over to where the other man lay, completely motionless, at Ivan's feet. With shaking hands, Tino gingerly brushed a few strands of bloody blond hair away from the wound, hot tears streaming down his face and dripping onto the Swede's t-shirt.

Before he could do anything more, however, Ivan's hands were yet again on him and he was pulled away from Berwald's unmoving body. Any protest was cut short when the cold pipe pressed against Tino's throat.

Every word he spoke was laced with insane cackling as he drew Tino closer to his body. "Now that Berwald is gone, Tinushka and I can run away together, da?"

Tino struggled with the arms encircling his chest and waist, but they didn't move. Ivan was too strong for him. Ivan only laughed at his futile attempts to escape and held on tighter, nudging the faucet against the bleeding bite mark on Tino's neck.

"Hmmm, Tinushka should not try to run away from Vanka... he might get hurt like Swedey." As if to prove his point, he jabbed at the wound with the pipe.

Tino's yelp of pain was followed by a snarl of anger, and with the last of his strength he wrenched his hands from Ivan's hold and grabbed the shaft of the pipe, shoving it away from his neck. Ivan made a noise of surprise and tried to force his weapon back to press against his captive's throat, but Tino had finally had enough.

He twisted the pipe back and forth in an attempt to win dominance of the weapon, but Ivan's hold was still tight around his waist and his thrashing and kicking seemed to have no effect. He growled and redoubled his efforts, swinging the pipe back and forth, Ivan's insane laughter ringing in his ears.

"Ivan!" He roared, fighting and scratching at his captor's hands. "Get. The. Fuck. OFF!"

Tino heard more than felt the pipe connect with Ivan's face. There was a crunching noise and a resounding metallic clang and suddenly the hands clutching at his shirt fell limp and the Russian's entire enormous weight was bearing down on his trembling shoulders. He had knocked him unconscious.

As gently as he could, Tino lowered Ivan's prone form to the floor. He stared down at the Russian lying on the floor of his front hall. Blood was trickling from his aquiline nose, which had taken the brunt of the pipe's force, and his mouth was hanging slightly open. Bruises from the fight and scratches from Tino's nails were beginning to darken and bleed as well. It was then that the enormity of the situation hit him, and he was just beginning to panic when a low groan of pain sounded from the other side of the hall.

He was by Berwald's side in an instant, hovering uncertainly as he shifted and slowly, labouriously, opened his eyes.

"Oh God, Berwald..."

"T'no..." The Swede shifted on the floor, attempting and failing to prop himself up on his elbows. Tino gently pushed him back down to the floor with shaking hands.

"You shouldn't move too much. You could hurt yourself more..."

"Wh't happ'ned? Are y'alright?"

"I- I'm okay. Ivan is unconscious. I... uh... I accidentally knocked him out with the pipe." His eyes were brimming with unshed tears of relief. Berwald was alive! Bleeding badly and probably concussed, but alive!

After a stunned silence, Berwald snorted. "Woulda liked t'see th't..."

"I-it's not funny!" Tino sniffled, though his tone suggested a lurking amusement.

"Hn."

"I-I'm going to go call an ambulance, but I should look at that cut before they get here. S-stay here, okay? I'll be right back..." Tino's voice wavered as he stood and headed for the door, leaving Berwald to gingerly maneuver himself into a slumped sitting position against the wall.

oooooo

He had just gotten off the phone with the hospital when Tino heard footsteps behind him. He turned and scowled at Berwald, who was leaning against the doorway like it was the only thing keeping him from toppling over in a dead faint.

"I told you you shouldn't move... you might be concussed." His annoyance at the man's stubbornness could only last so long before it melted into concern for his wellbeing.

"Hn. Yer bleedin'."

It was only then that the Finn remembered the bite Ivan had given him. He reached up to brush the spot with his fingertips, but immediately flinched when the contact sent hot pain spiking up his neck. "Oh, right, that..."

"Got a f'rst aid kit? Should clean 't 'p. Could get 'nfect'd."

"In the kitchen, but... Berwald, you're more hurt than me You should lie down on the couch or something! The ambulance will be here in less than ten minutes..." Tino's nervous babbling was cut short as Berwald gently steered him into the kitchen, sat him in a chair, and fished out the first-aid kit. He tried to protest, but in less than a minute, Berwald was already at work, dabbing disinfectant and creams onto the scratches on Tino's arms and face, all the while ignoring his own wounds an avoiding Tino's eyes.

Tino winced as Berwald daubed at the bleeding bite mark with a hydrogen peroxide-soaked cottonball.

"S'rry."

He shook his head. "No, it's not a problem. Thank you."

"Hn."

Tino peered down into Berwald. Blood trickled from the cut caused by his broken glasses and the hair on back of his head was dark and spiky with more of it. The bruises on his arms ans jaw were darkening and beginning to swell. "Will you let me clean you up a little too, before the ambulance gets here?"

"Nh. M'fine." Berwald replied as he finished bandaging the wound on Tino's neck. He pressed his hand to it for a moment before removing it and looking away.

The Finn's voice was soft and choked with tears, and he reached out to touch Berwald's battered cheek. "You're always so kind to me, Berwald, why won't you let me do the same for you? You... you won't even look at me..."

Berwald was too distracted by the shaking hand brushing along his jaw to reply coherently, unconsciously tilting his head toward's the touch as his only answer.

"I-is this about what Ivan said earlier? About you...and me..." Tino trailed off nervously, too embarrassed to elaborate, but Berwald knew exactly what he meant. He drew a shaky breath.

"Yes."

Tino's voice was almost a whisper now, quavering with anxiety and something else. Hurt? Hope? He couldn't tell. "Then, please, look at me... t-talk to me. I..."

Hearing the raw need in Tino's request, Berwald finally forced himself to look into the face he loved so much. The emotions he found there nearly overpowered him with their intensity. And as much as he tried to mask his own feelings, as much as he tried to repress his desire, he knew that for the first time his face was betraying him, that his expression was more of a confession than words could ever be.

"Berwald..."

"T'no, m's-"

His second apology of the night was suddenly and unexpectedly cut off as Tino slid from his chair, leaned close, and kissed him into silence.

Berwald's first impulse was to push Tino away, to tell him he couldn't possibly be with him, but the sensation of that sweet mouth finally, _finally_ pressing against his own after months of protracted longing and undisclosed desire was too much, and his last thread of self-restraint snapped. Stifling a moan, he wrapped his arms around Tino's slender torso and pulled the little man onto his lap. He felt Tino's lips curl into a smile as he responded to the kiss, deepening it with an insistent, clumsy tongue.

Tino gasped at how quickly and intimately Berwald reacted to what he himself had thought as a wildly invasive act, but he didn't pull away. He had been waiting for so long to do this, and apparently so had Berwald. He couldn't remember the last time a man had held him as desperately or as gently the Swede did now. As Berwald's tongue ran over his front teeth, Tino grasped at the broad shoulders and gave himself up completely to the kiss.

Too preoccupied with each other, neither Berwald nor Tino noticed when the front door opened and two men in white scrubs entered the kitchen. After a moment of stunned silence, the taller of the two spoke to his companion.

"Feliciano, stop staring. It's not polite."

"Veee... but Ludwig said it was just fine when we did the same thing in the broom closet the other day..."

"Sh-shut up!"

Tino squeaked and leapt from Berwald's lap so fast that he fell over. He recovered himself, however, and in a moment was on his feet, though his face was nearly purple from mortification.

"I...uh... um... hi."

The two men just stared at him.

"Y-you must be the paramedics..."

The taller of the two men nodded in an authoritative way. "And you, I assume, are Tino Väinämöinen."

"Eheheh, yes, that would me me!"

Ludwig raised an eyebrow.

While this most awkward conversation was taking place, the other paramedic had been examining a very flummoxed Berwald, his nimble little fingers dancing around the various bruises and scratches in a slightly invasive manner. Berwald tried to back away, but the other man had no conception of personal space and only followed him, humming happily to himself.

"Ludwiiiig!" His voice was much too cheery, Berwald decided. "He's bleeding pretty badly. We should go!"

"Very well. Mr.Väinämöinen, you will ride in the front with Feli."

"O-okay..."

"Feli" sprung to his feet at this proposal, giddy with excitement. "Vee! Yes, yes, come with me, Mr. Guy-With-The-Funny-Name! I can show you how everything works while Ludwig does all the manly stuff!"

Before Tino could protest or even tell him how to pronounce his name right, Feliciano took his hand and dragged him from the room. As he was forcefully pulled through the door, Tino glanced back at Berwald, who was still sitting on the kitchen floor. Ludwig was leaning over him with some sort of medical instrument, but the other man didn't seem to notice, his nervous eyes reserved solely for the retreating Finn.

oooooo

Tino sat in the hospital waiting room for three hours, fretting to the point of tears as the sky outside slowly changed from black to blue and from blue to pink. There were so many things to worry about! Was Berwald all right? He'd heard no news from the doctors. And what about Ivan? He had still been unconscious when last Tino saw him.

The outcome of the conversation with the police had at least been reassuring. He had been acting in self defense, there would be no charges. Officer Zwingli had assured him that a restraining order was on the way, and that Ivan would never bother him again. But these were small comforts indeed in comparison to Tino's woes.

The biggest worry on his mind was Berwald. Not just the state of his health after getting beaten senseless by Ivan but... other things. The memory of their kiss burned hot and hopeful in Tino's mind, and his lips tingled as if Berwald's had just left them. But... but had Berwald really been in a right state of mind when that had happened? It had been mostly Tino who had initiated the kissing. What if Berwald didn't actually want it, and went along just to appease him? His response seemed enthusiastic but... what if... what if, what if, what if?

Tino gnawed hard on his fingernails, his legs jittering. He couldn't keep still, and continually glanced at the clock on the wall. Time was moving too slowly, damn it! What was taking them so long? The damage couldn't be more serious than a concussion could it? What if it was? What would he do if Berwald wasn't completely okay?

_Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god._..

Just as he was about to give up any semblance of calm in favour of clutching at his hair or sobbing into the arm of his chair, the double doors to the hall swung open and none other than Dr. Williams stepped out. He seemed surprised to see Tino sitting there.

"You're here a lot Mr. Väinämöinen. Have you gotten into another accident?" He asked, adjusting his glasses.

Tino whipped around in his seat and stared, wild-eyed, at the doctor. His look in his eyes was so insane that Doctor Williams jumped back in alarm.

"Is Berwald alright?" He asked insistently, his voice almost an octave higher than normal.

"I... uh." The doctor stammered, all professionalism stripped away by his surprise at the way sweet little Mr. Väinämöinen was acting. "Y-yes, Mr. Oxenstierna checked out just fine. He needed stitches on that cut, but other than that it was just a couple of nasty bruises."

Every muscle held taught in Tino's body immediately relaxed, and the psychotic expression on his face melted into a relieved smile. "Thank you, Doctor. I... can I go see him? Or will he be out soon?"

Dr. Williams' eyebrows shot up past the frames of his glasses. "What are you talking about?"

"Um... Berwald. When will you release him?"

The eyebrows traveled even further up the doctor's forehead. "I'm so sorry! I thought you knew... Mr. Oxenstierna left over an hour ago."

oooooo

**A/N**: Dun-dun-DUUUUUUUUN!

Only one more chapter after this! That's... really incredible to me, you know. When I started this I never knew it was going to be this long or that I was going to get such a response... it's come to mean so much to me. I don't really know what I'm going to do with myself when it's done. Write another one, I suppose... :D

Two notes, neither of them factual:

Firstly, I bought some salmiakki online to try it. It came all the way from Turku! I still have the stamps! And, most importantly, I am completely addicted to the stuff. It's delicious and I love it. Though all of my friends avoid me when I eat it... XD

Secondly, arts. I have gotten a couple of really wonderful pieces of art for this story in the last couple months! Here are some links! (take out spaces, as per usual):

This one is so adorable! It was sent to me months ago, but it still makes me go all fangirly every time I look at it.: http:/ i268. photo bucket. com / albums / jj5 / ? t=1303381891

This is from the wonderful Lily, whose fic you must read and whose art you must look at. She is exceptionally talented at both: http:/ lily-l-bell . deviantart . com / gallery / # / d3cxgey

I cannot even verbalize how wonderful it feels to get art for this story... it's just... guh. It's amazing. Really really REALLY amazing. Thank you so much, both of you, for the art. And all of you for reading.

Also here is a comic of the Feliks scene in Chapter 8 that I drew myself. It is very silly.: http:/ deepwoodwayfinder . deviantart . com / gallery / # / d3ccwzc


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